


The Consequences of Saving a Life

by Runespour



Series: Harry Potter x Batfam Crossovers (that I really don't have time for but am writing anyway) [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Hermione Granger, Damian Wayne Has Friends, Damian Wayne Has Issues, Damian Wayne is Robin, Damian Wayne is a Good Influence, Damian Wayne is a Little Shit, Dark Harry Potter, Dark Hermione Granger, F/M, Female Harry Potter, How Do I Tag, Protective Damian Wayne, Unreliable Narrator, how did that happen?, story told in snapshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:47:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22486552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Runespour/pseuds/Runespour
Summary: Centuries ago, a Potter saved the life of Ra's Al Ghul. The life debt Ra's incured has never been fufilled. Until now that is. With only one Potter remaining Ra's will need to actively step in to prevent the Potter line from dying out. Now the time has come for Ra's to settle his debt to the once powerful lineage. Talia is already raising one child with the skills needed to defend himself long into adulthood, it should be no challenge for her to raise a second concurrently. (Title subject to revision I currently hate it)
Relationships: Harry Potter & Damian Wayne, Harry Potter/Damian Wayne
Series: Harry Potter x Batfam Crossovers (that I really don't have time for but am writing anyway) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1634485
Comments: 72
Kudos: 910





	1. A Lifedebt

**Note** : Languages switch a lot.

This is Arabic

_This is Writing_

**This is Russian**

This is English

November 28th, 2000, Number 4 Private Drive Surrey 

An aged man stood silently in a dark house. A young baby lay cradled in his arms, the baby shifted uncomfortably but did not cry.

“What a well behaved child.” The man murmured in soft Arabic. He eyed the nasty diaper rash, and the overfilled diaper distastefully as he walked away from the previously locked cupboard. A man dressed entirely in black materialized from the shadows. The man was overloaded with caretaking supplies for children aged twelve to eighteen months old. The masked ninja laid out the supplies and carefully unloaded a changing mat on the sterile kitchen table. The man gently placed the child on the mat and stepped back to allow a ninja to change the diaper and begin treating the rash. With the child being cared for, the man found three more ninjas appearing in front of him, kneeling respectfully.

“The Dursleys will remain alive. They may be useful to the young Potter as she grows into her inheritance.” The man declared

“We will leave as soon as the child is fit for transport. You have confirmed that this abode holds none of her personal belongings?” The man questioned. The group answered with an affirmative nod and vanished. 

While he waited for the child to be prepared, the aged man pulled out a note, re-reading it despite himself.

  
_To Lord Ra’s Al Ghul_

_May this letter find you well,_

_I do not know if you know who I am or remember my grandfather, but I was told to go to you for help should my family ever be in mortal danger. My name is James Potter, the grandson of Harison Potter. I was told by my father who was told by his father that you owe my family a life debt. I do not wish to force you to help if you are unwilling or unable, but I am desperate. My wife and I have gone into hiding with our young child. A homicidal dark lord is after my life and the life of my entire family. We have every protection available in place, but I fear it will not be enough. I do not know if your debt still holds, but should you protect my child, I, James Fleamont Potter, head of the Potter family, do swear on my magic that you, Ra’s Al Ghul will have fulfilled your life debt to the Potter family._

_We are currently hidden under magical protections and for the safety of my family, I cannot divulge our location to you. I was told by my father that you are a man of powerful connections. If you receive this, please help us._

_Sincerely,_  
_Lord James Potter_

Ra’s felt a tug at his chest when he glanced at the child. James Potter may have thought that he was offering Ra’s a way to fulfill the life debt he incurred more than two centuries ago, but in reality, the Potter lord had created an ultimatum. Now that the child is the sole surviving Potter, and James Potter created this magical oath, Ra’s was in danger of serious magical consequences should he allow the child to die. While he did not have a magical core like the Potter’s subspecies of humans, the effects of the Lazarus pit had given him a magical signature. Ra’s did not intend to discover what magical backlash he would face should this child die. 

Ra’s carefully tucked the letter away and turned toward the kitchen just as a ninja appeared with the child. The baby girl had a fresh diaper, treated rashes, been wrapped in a silken blanket, and fallen asleep. Ra’s accepted the child and inspected the wound on her forehead. 

“Summon a shaman to examine this wound. This is magical in nature, that I am sure of.” Ra’s ordered calmly and turned toward the door. As he moved, he paused to glance at the petrified couple in the living room. The couple was on their knees with knives pressed against their jugulars. 

“Should either of you speak of this to anyone, you will find your lives cut short. Remember this well, Dumbledore may give threats, but I am a man who gives only promises.” With that, he exited private drive number four and vanished into the night.

. . .

December 1st, 2000 League of Assassins Compound

“What is this?” Talia Al Ghul hissed in outrage. Her eyes burned as she took in the sight of the young child in her father’s arms. 

“Her name is Harriet and you are to train her alongside young Damian.” Ra’s ordered calmly.

“What of her parents?” Talia asked, eyeing the child suspiciously.

“Her lineage will be of no consequence for several years yet. I expect her to be trained appropriately when the time comes that she is ready to claim her inheritance. I expect her to be raised with the same . . . discretion that you are taking to conceal young Damian’s existence.” Ra’s explained as he assigned Talia her task. His daughter may be suspicious of her task, but Ra’s had full faith that she would complete her duties without fail. Talia knew full well the consequences of disobedience. He passed off the young Potter heiress to Talia. The child had watched the entire exchange silently, with wide curious green eyes. Despite the tuff of bright red hair, he could see Talia studying the child’s green eyes and coming to her own conclusions. Her suspicions were not his concern. She would do her job, and should she perform accordingly, Ra’s may choose to disabuse her of the suspicion that she had a sister.

… 

March 21st, 2005 Deep in a Mountain Pass

Harriet glared at the cliff face ahead of her with all the malice her small form could contain. She glanced back. Damian was seated, decked out in the same winter weather gear as her. He had removed his backpack and was taking a long drink from his insulated thermos. 

“We should keep moving. If we take too long to make it to the top, Talia will be displeased with us.” Harriet stated blandly. Damian glared at her.

“Feel free to move ahead, your impatience will be your death. Then mother will be very pleased.” Harriet scowled as he spoke, and rolled her eyes, it was a shame that he couldn’t see it under her goggles. She unraveled her climbing gear and began preparing to scale the sheer cliff. The job was made more difficult with the heavy gloves that limited her dexterity and fine motion skills even further. 

“You are tying that knot incorrectly, it will come loose if you fall.” Damian commented as he began securing his climbing equipment as well. Harriet raised an eyebrow. Damian may not be able to see the gesture but he could certainly sense that she was doing it. 

“My knots are fine, you, however, need to change that knot, or it will fail.” Harriet knew that Damian had been distracted during this lesson. His wretch of a mother had gone off to visit his mysterious father, and she never came back in a normal mood. Talia would either be in the best mood Harriet had ever seen her have, or the worst. There was no middle ground. Both of them were wondering if they would go through nasty hell training (like scaling this mountain) so that Talia could remind herself of Damian’s genetic potential, go on a rather fun pickpocket/blend in with a crowd training that Talia only gifted them with when she was in a great mood, or they might be put through seduction training. Never mind that Damian was four and she was five. Those were the only outcomes of her interaction with Damian’s father. 

“My knots are unequivocal. Especially in comparison to yours.” Damian replied bitingly.

“If you fall, you can’t say that I didn’t warn you.” Harriet replied with a shrug. They were both ready, so without another word, they began their ascent. They made it about half-way up the cliff face before a particularly strong gust of wind knocked both of them free from the wall. Harriet was entirely unsurprised to see her knot hold, allowing her so get thrown free, before swinging back to the relative safety of the wall. Harriet was also entirely unsurprised to see Damian’s knot unravel as he was thrown free of the wall. Oh well, a fall could certainly do his ego some good. Harriet watched his descent dispassionately for a moment, before realizing that his trajectory was taking directly toward the one patch of stone in the ravine of snow. Feeling her heart leap into her throat, she useless screamed a warning, a single hand leaving the wall in a belated desperate move. Sure, she had seen people die, but this was different. 

Having already begun to master meditation, she knew what her center was supposed to feel like. In her heart-stopping panic, she almost missed something tug within her. In the last moment before his delicate face connected with the stone, Damian came to an abrupt stop. All momentum was extinguished and he hovered in the air for a moment before plopping onto the stone without any strength. If there had been any question that Harriet was responsible, the sudden exhaustion that sapped through her confirmed it. She stared at her extended palm incredulously, and then returned to the mission at hand. She was closer to the bottom than the top, and her energy was mostly gone. Following that logic, Harriet repelled back down rather than finishing the climb. She sat in an exhausted heap, back leaning against the cliff face, and watched Damian slowly pick himself up and make his way over to where she was sitting. He examined her slumped form, and then plopped down next to her.

“Are you meta?” Damian asked quietly, his tone gave away nothing.

“I have no clue. Grandmaster has told me as much about my heritage, as he has told Talia.” Harriet replied, unsure why she was being so honest him. They sat there in silence for a long time. Both recovering from their ordeals. Finally, Damian spoke.

“You have done me a service today Harriet, that fall would not have been pleasant. When the time comes that we are pitted against each other, I will remember this and spare your life.” Damian stated graciously, and Harriet felt a familiar spark of white-hot rage bloom in her that she normally associated with Damian opening his mouth. 

“That won’t be necessary, I have always been your superior in skill, the only thing that changes now is that we are both aware I am genetically superior as well.” Harriet retorted.

“My parents are not meta, but mother has told me that my father defeated Superman. I clearly do not need any meta abilities to outclass you.” Damian replied heatedly. 

“Right, well how about a bet then, I will beat you to the top of this mountain, and you will admit that I am superior to both you, and your breeding.” Harriet offered grandiosely. 

“Fine, when I win, you will admit that I am the product of far greater breeding that does not require any meta abilities to defeat you and any other meta.” Damian decided. 

“We have an accord. But Damian? I have one suggestion before we return to climbing.” Harriet requested, coming to a decision that would change the course of their relationship thus far. 

“And what, pray tell, is your request?” Damian replied suspiciously.

“Let me show you how to tie a proper knot.” Harriet said with a smirk, that caused a delightful scowl to appear on Damian’s face.

. . .

April 2nd, 2005 League of Assassins Compound

Harriet sank down to a knee as Ra’s Al Ghul entered the audience chamber she was waiting in. Beside him walked Talia. Joy.

“My daughter tells me that you discovered a new part of yourself on your most recent training expedition.” Ra’s stated without preamble. Harriet freaking knew it. Talia was totally watching their entire hike through that blasted mountain. She was behaving in an oddly cordial toward her ever since she beat Damian to the top of the mountain. The little cheater had demanded best two out of three before he would admit defeat but that was fine with Harriet, she was 1-0 and nothing Damian could do would best her. 

“Yes, grandmaster.” Was all Harriet replied, in her most respectful tone. 

“I am sure you have many questions for me about your heritage. Because you have been performing adequately in your recent training, I have decided that you have earned some information. You come from a small community of inborn magic users located in Western Europe. Your birth parents entrusted you to my tutelage before passing away. As your natural magics have begun to manifest, I have prepared a tutor for you to meet with monthly. Talia will ensure that you are able to attend these. The tutor will teach you to control your gifts and educate you in the history and versatility on the magics of both Europe and the world at large. I expect your studies to reflect the same standards that you meet with your tutors within the compound.” Ra’s explained succinctly. 

“Thank you, grandmaster, you honor me” Harriet replied, trying to maintain the same dignity and presence that Ra’s Al Ghul exuded. Despite Talia’s mask of indifference, Harriet was pretty sure that this was the first tidbit of information on her identity that was given. The thought made Harriet only moderately smug. 

“You are dismissed.” Ra’s stated cooly, and Harry bowed once more, before making her exit. She had a rematch with Damian awaiting her this afternoon, and she intended to win. 

. . .

August 30th, 2006 League of Assassins Compound

Damian let out and angry curse as he fell from the balance beam, Harriet glanced down to the floor below her and smirked. She was upside down, perfectly balanced on one hand. In slow, calculated movements, she let her weight slip backward until her bare feet came in contact with the beam behind her. Moving into a standing position from the one-handed crab pose was child’s play after that. With a smug saunter, she walked the beam until she was above where he had fallen, and then silently dropped to the floor beside him.

“That makes 132-131. I have superior balance _and_ genetics.” Harriet spoke with a grin as she examined his wrist from where he was clutching it in pain. Damian gave her a scathing look, and Harriet frowned.

“Let me see it. The new tutor for my serpent tongue magics demanded I practice every chance I get.” Harriet demanded simply, extending her hand. Damian gave her a suspicious look before offering his wrist to her. She pulled out a necklace that had been under her loose-fitting jacket. She and Damian were old enough to wear the normal ninja training outfits, even if theirs were several sizes smaller than anyone else in the compound. The necklace had several bones of snakes, serpents, and previous serpent tongue mages. The bones were dipped in various fluids, dried and strung on a length of leather cord made from the skin of a basilisk. She was sure that the piece cost Ra’s a small fortune, but it was an amazing focus, and Ra’s had presented it as a reward for her rapid improvements in so many different areas of magic simultaneously. She focused on Damain’s wrist, letting magic gently feel out the sprain, before concentrating on her spell and murmuring;

“ _~_ Mend _~_ ” If there was one thing that Harriet had learned, it was that words held power. In the serpent tongue language, it was especially so. She felt a familiar power course through the necklace and appear in a dim glow that encased Damian’s wrist for a soft moment, before vanishing and hopefully taking Damian’s pain with it. Damian flexed it experimentally, his face showed no pain. 

“Your skill grows with every day, Harriet.” He murmured appreciatively. Harriet grinned and flipped her hair flamboyantly. 

“Of course they do, if only you could keep up, then I might find some challenge in the monotonous day to day extracurriculars.” Harriet grinned as Damian stilled for a moment. They locked eyes in challenge, and Damian bared his teeth in a vicious grin. 

“Oh really, I seem to remember you losing to me yesterday in our spar. Surely that provided at least some escape from tiresome continuity.” He retorted

“Please, that was a one-time occurrence, it will not happen again.” Harriet retorted, her muscles tensing as she prepared for the fight that was about to break out.

“Oh, I can guarantee that history will repeat itself.” Damian replied and they began to circle each other with predatory intent. Harriet opened her mouth to make a taunt that would set off the impending brawl when a servant entered the room warily.

“Young lord and lady, the Lady Talia requests both of your presences immediately.” The servant declared respectfully, before bowing once, and leaving. 

The two eyed each other once more before Harriet shrugged, and all aggression vanished from their posture. They slipped on their shoes, gloves, and heavier jackets, all of which had come off during their balance contest. They slipped on their face masks and completed their ensembles with cowls. The two looked like fairly identical androgynous mini-ninjas with nothing but their green eyes visible to give away their identities. 

Arriving in the meeting room where Talia was waiting, the two nodded respectfully to her and waited for Talia to speak first.

“It is time for you both to take your first step down the path to become strong.” Talia announced solemnly handing the two six-year-olds an identical scroll. She watched carefully for any hesitation as they read through their first mission. It was a simple assassination, she would have people watching their every move, on standby in case the mission became more than they could handle. Talia personally would have preferred something a little more hands-off for their first mission, but she knew that her son could handle this. The two had butchered their own food plenty of times now. While neither had taken a human life yet, both had been acclimated to the death of dinner animals and had borne witness to several executions, exterminations, and interrogations throughout the years. Neither would even hesitate, Talia was sure of it. It was her who had trained them after all. 

“It will be done, mother.” 

  
. . . 

September 3rd, 2006 Russia

“ **Sir!** ” a tiny voice called out in Russian.

A large man stopped as was about to enter a local bar he enjoyed frequenting. A little girl with bright red hair waving about her, dressed in scraps came running up to him with a look of terrified desperation. 

“ **Sir it’s my brother! He won’t get up! Please help!** ” The girl pleaded, grabbing his pant leg desperately. The man nearly slapped her away in disgust before pausing. In these temperatures, if her brother was dressed anything like her, he likely was no longer alive. They must be new to the streets if they tried to sleep outside, and came to strangers for help in this part of town. Barely withholding a smile, he tried to give her a semi-concerned look.

“ **Where is he?** ” He asked, the girl nearly started sobbing in relief.

“ **Oh thank you, sir! He is just in the alley behind this place, I thought no one would help him!** ” She hugged his leg slightly before tugging him in the direction of the alley. What a stupid child. Ah well, easy pickings never lasted long anyway, the man thought, allowing a malicious smile onto his face and the girl charged on ahead to where a young boy lay unconscious in the trash. He crouched down to check his pulse and was more than a little surprised to find that the boy was still alive. How . . . fortunate. He turned to the girl, intent on informing her of this when the near corpse moved. That distracted him long enough to miss the little redhead slip behind him with a small predatory grin of her own. The boy had already moved, plunging a dagger into his stomach. Staring down in shock and pain, he never even saw the girl launch herself up at his neck with a dagger of her own. Before he could comprehend what happened, the life had left his eyes. 

“Harriet! Why would you do that? I had him, and now because of you I’m disgusting.” Damian hissed in outrage, looking disgustedly at the blood congealing on his disguise. Blood that had come from the far more messy neck wound.

“Simple, Talia told me that if anyone ever looked at me the way he did, I should stab them in the throat before they try anything.” Harriet replied unrepentantly.

“But he was already about to die!” Damian protested

“Well, it certainly made me feel better.” Harriet argued.

“It was not part of our plan.” Damian grumbled, realizing he wasn’t going to win.

“Correction, it wasn’t part of your plan, how about this, if you want your plan to go off without a hitch then you play the honeypot role and I lay around and do nothing next time.” Harriet replied crossing her arms petulantly as she pulled out a smartphone from under her pauper rags and took a picture of the corpse before sending it off to Talia, not that she wasn’t fully convinced Talia was watching their every move like a mother tigress waiting to swoop in on anything threatening her little cub learning to hunt. The two moved quickly as they bickered, disposed of the clothes and weapons into a sealed bag, transformed into two entirely different children with some preplanned disguises, and headed back into town to rendezvous at the pickup point. 

As they moved, Harriet made an awkward face.

“So, . . . do you feel any different?” Harriet asked him quietly.

“Why would I?” Damian asked defensively.

“Well, we killed someone today. He was scum, but we still killed him.” Harriet asked slowly. Damian frowned.

“It is what is expected of us, why? Do you feel different?” He asked. Harriet looked around slowly, trying to pinpoint where all their watchers were, before turning her head so that her lips couldn’t be read, and murmured softly.

“Well, your plan made it that only you would have to kill today.” Damian gave her a hard look and turned his head so his lips couldn’t be read either.

“Mother would not have sent us on another mission for some time, you could have spared yourself for at least a short time yet. Why did you do that?” Damian asked with a strange look. Harriet breathed out hard, before collecting her thoughts.

“Damian. You are the only person who I interact with on an equal level. I consider you an important ally. We work well together, I will not let you complete any training without me participating equally. I will not allow you to become a full-fledged member of the league without me. We- We are in this together.” Harriet felt a slight heat enter her cheeks, aware of how much feeling she admitting to Damian, who could easily use this against her. Damian stared at her for a long moment.

“I- Thank you Harriet.” Damian spoke quietly and the two spent the rest of the journey in silence, having exhausted the amount of feelings either were willing to expose.

. . . 

July 4th, 2008 New York

Damian and Harriet sat on the roof of a skyscraper, watching fireworks explode in the distance.

“Happy now? We’ve seen the fireworks. Can we get on with the mission?” Damian asked shortly, practicing his American accent.

“Of course not, I’ve heard that the end is the best part.” Harriet replied in a crisp British accent, much to Damian’s chagrin hers sounded much more convincing than his. Damian sighed and looked her over. She was dressed in superman tee and had a skirt that was just long enough to conceal the daggers strapped to her thighs. He was dressed in jeans and a batman tee. They were practicing their undercover prowess, and Damian was more than a little displeased that his katana could not be concealed like her daggers. He felt naked with only the knives in his shoes and the shuriken in his pockets. Harriet made an excited noise as the finale began, she pulled out the phone from Damian’s pocket that was definitely supposed to be used for mission-related purposes only and pulled him closer, angling them for a selfie with the fireworks in the background. Harriet gave the camera a full toothed grin and, at Harriet’s pointed elbow, he gave the camera a small smile. Harriet snapped the photo twice and separated from him. He watched with a raised eyebrow as she emailed to photo somewhere and wiped all evidence of either the photo or email’s existence from the phone. 

“That is such a frivolous and pointless risk. Mother is going to put both of us through hell and destroy all of your photos when she discovers that you are leaving an electronic trail behind us.” He pointed out for what must have been the hundredth time. 

“Nonsense, Talia definitely likes me better than you. And as long as no one else finds out, she would totally let me keep them. I bet it kills her that she has no adorable baby pictures of you. Actually, I bet she totally does. Hidden away somewhere like me.” Harriet insisted and returned the phone to Damain’s pocket.

“Are we even talking about the same woman?” Damian asked confusedly.

“Of course we are, me and Talia have _bonded_. I’m basically the daughter that she secretly wishes she had.” Harriet replied with a wave of her hand.

“Talia and I.” Damian corrected with a smirk and Harriet made a face damn. She had gotten careless, they currently had an English superiority contest going on that she just lost. That made it 361-363. Damian was pulling ahead and Harriet was having none of it. The fireworks finale barely helped the sulk that Harriet was falling into. As it ended, the two stood wordlessly in perfect sync and slipped through the roof hatch into the penthouse apartment. They ignored the shattered glass, bullet holes, and blood trail to the bedroom. Damian sent out a mission complete message to the pickup team, and the two began making their way back to where a helicopter awaited them. 

. . .

June 1st, 2010 League of Assassins Compound

Damian scowled fiercely, watching Harriet pack all of her belongings into a small bag.

“I should go with you.” Damian spoke grumpily, Harriet snorted.

“Damian I will be attending a school for witches and wizards soon. You do not have inborn magic. This will be the beginning of my quest to claim my inheritance and avenge my progenitors. Do not misunderstand, I expect you and Talia to visit in the coming months before I enter the school, but I must appear to be living with the blood relations in Europe when the magical society comes to collect me.” Harriet’s voice was incredibly fond up until she spoke of her relatives. Damian understood this perfectly. They had scoped the family out less than a year ago after his Grandfather had given Harriet a full accounting of her family history. He tried not to be outwardly upset about that. Damian still had not even earned his Father’s name, yet Harriet had been given an endless stream of information about her origins. Damian understood how hard it was not to know and could see how much better Mother had treated Harriet after she realized that they were not related. It was for the best that Harriet knew, even if that meant Mother had not-so-subtly started grooming Harriet to be his consort. 

“The compound will be different without you here.” Damian stated flatly.

“And everything will different without you with me.” Harriet replied equally flat. They stared for a moment longer before a servant entered her room.

“Young Lady, Lady Talia requests that you make your way to the helicopter.” Harriet nodded regally.

“Yes, I will present myself momentarily.” She dismissed the servant and turned back to Damian, they clasped wrists firmly and looked each other in the eye.

“May your enemies fall before you.” Harriet stated solemnly.

“And yours quake before your might.” Damian replied. They nodded once and released each other.

Harriet grabbed her bag and walked out. Damian slipped out the window and settled onto the roof of the main building. He watched from a distance as Harriet’s small figure exchanged words with his Mother, before boarding the helicopter. He watched as Talia stepped away from the helicopter. He watched as it rose into the air and flew away, taking its sole passenger far from him. He watched until the Helicopter vanished beyond the mountains protecting their compound. He watched for several minutes after the helicopter was out of sight. Damian took a deep breath to ground himself and reign in his feeling on Harriet’s departure from his life. Then, Damian rose and began went to begin his training for the day. Alone for the first time in as long as he could remember. 

. . . 

July 31st, 2010, Number 4 Private Drive Surrey 

“Yer a wizard Harry.”


	2. Year 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: In this chapter there is brief discussion of assault on a minor. No assault occurs on or off screen but allusions are made of it happening, and being of a sexual nature.

September 1st, 2010 

“Potter, Harry” A powerful voice called from the front of the enormous dining hall. Whispers and stares broke out from the crowd, while annoyance ticked through young Harriet. It hadn’t been until she entered Gringotts two weeks ago with her pilfered vault key that she had been able to examine her finances. To her shock on horror, Harriet had discovered that her birth name was actually Harry Lily Potter. Harry was just so, plebeian. Damian could _never know_. She stepped forward from the group of eleven-year-olds, trying to withhold her disdain for the lot of them. She didn’t realize how lucky she was to have Damian at her side until she realized how low functioning the rest of the population was. 

The train ride had been true suffering. True. Suffering. At least the Dursleys feared her enough to cater to her every whim. She planned on making the rest of wizarding Britain worship her. The fellow redhead who she had shared a compartment had seriously made her consider the benefits of ruling with fear like Grandmaster rather than manipulation like Talia. The six-hour train ride had ended before her patience did so she was going to stick with the perfect savior/goddess for now. As she walked up to the stage and was faced with the blatant whispers and staring, she considered removing this entire population from the breeding pool. Harriet would be doing everyone a favor. She took a seat and as the hat touched her head, Harriet vowed that she would burn this institution to the ground if she got head lice.

_Oh my. Why aren’t you a bundle of sunshine_? A voice spoke within her mind. Harriet gave no outward reaction. She had done extensive research on the sorting process to ensure that she would be placed in Gryffindor. Despite being prepared, it was still incredibly unsettling to feel the powerful artifact bypass her carefully constructed mental defenses.

_Good evening, I formally request that you place me in Gryffindor._ Harriet spoke firmly. She had discovered that the hat near always took the student’s preference into account. 

_Most certainly not, you are possibly the least suited to that house out of them all._ Harriet withheld a scowl.

_You have seen my research, I know you look out for the student’s best interest, I would be bullied relentlessly in Slytherin, it may get so bad that I would be forced to execute an entire generation of purebloods._ Harriet explained her logic easily enough, this artifact had centuries of accumulated secret-keeping magic spelled onto it to prevent it from revealing any family secrets.

_Are you threatening me? I have not been threatened in a long while, and let me tell you child, the only eleven-year-olds who threaten me have always been natural Slytherins. You would do very well there, I assure you._ The hat seemed amused by her. Harriet tried to think fast.

_The public at large would turn on me if I do not get placed into Gryffindor, my life would become much more difficult._ Harriet replied

_Ah but you have never personally cared what this community thinks of you_. The hat seemed alarmingly sure of himself.

_How about this, if the safety of others is not a concern for you, should you sort me into Slytherin, I, Harriet lily Potter, do so swear on my magic that I will destroy you_. Harriet thought with surety, she had been raised to destroy her enemies and always keep her word, magical oaths meant little to her. She would go through with what she said, whether the oath existed or not. 

_Oh my, you are a little too young to be making such oaths so flippantly._ The hat seemed alarmed more by the fact that she made an oath than the content of said oath. 

_I do not make empty threats._ Harriet replied simply.

_Well, I suppose that I will have to explain why children should not try to threaten me._ The hat seemed way too calm by her threats.

_Could you make it quick, this sorting is taking too long_. Harriet requested cheekily.

_Would three words be succinct enough, my dear?_ Harriet was well trained to detect traps, both verbal and physical, but Harriet was also trained not to be a coward.

_Sure._

_Better be, “_ HUFFLEPUFF!” The hat shouted to the silent hall, Harriet kept her face neutral, but rage filled her. 

_Why you conniving sack of shit I will make you regre-_ The hat cackled as it was yanked from her head. Harriet immediately plastered a shy, nervous smile on her face. She stood and made sure to rush over to the Hufflepuff table so that she could shyly hide away from all the staring people. She hesitated unsurely at the raucous applause from the Hufflepuff table, and a kindly third year invited her to sit next to him much more gently than the rest of the excited table. She sat next to him and hunched nervously as the boy introduced himself.

“Hi! Welcome to Hufflepuff! I’m Cedric, a third-year. I might be a little older, but you can come to me or any of us with any question, or concerns, or even if you just need someone to talk to.” He said with a friendly smile. She looked around the table, then around the rest of the hall. At the other tables, the first years were grouped up on one end of the table. At Hufflepuff, the first years were interspersed throughout the table, and each one was sitting next to an older student who looked like they could be in their third year. How cute. She made sure to look back at him a moment later with a sheepish expression, as if she just realized he was waiting for a reply.

“Um hi. I’m Harry” She winced and continued, embarrassed,

“But I suppose you already knew that.” Harriet spoke hesitantly. Cedric gave her a warm inviting smile.

“It’s nice to meet you, Harry.”

. . .

The next day, Harriet walked toward her potions with slight nervousness. On either side of her, Susan Bones, Hannah Abbott, walked. Behind them were the rest of the Hufflepuff first years, with a fifth-year prefect showing them the location of the potions classroom. Most of her house was too thoroughly enamored with her to hold any actual conversation. Bones and Abbott were acceptable companions for the moment. The class schedule that they had been assigned apparently stirred up conflict with the older years. Instead of a traditional Raven-Puff and Slyther-Gryffin course split, Headmaster Dumbledore had decided to change all the course pairings. The first-year Hufflepuff now had an almost perfect split between Gryffindors and Slytherins. The upper years were pretty upset about this, something about the Gryffindors being a dangerous sort of stupid, and the Slytherins being manipulative bullies. Harry was reconsidering her opinion of the puffs for that comment alone. 

Back to her nervousness, the teacher for this class was Severus Snape. _The Severus Snape_. As in, the youngest potion master in history. Severus Snape is a literal potions genius, his work is _inspired_ and Harriet may have possibly read every single one of his published works. The fact that Snape was teaching the class was not what was making her nervous, however. She had gone ahead and read through the first year potions text. Harriet had learned all of this and more when she was five. If she were forced to sit in this amazing man’s presence and listen to him waste his breath teaching materials meant for five-year-olds all while knowing that he could be teaching her about doctorate-level olde style potions brewing, Harriet might kill someone. They were ushered into the dungeon potions classroom and Harriet frowned. There was no physical ventilation or proper lighting in this room. She tried to find the control mechanism for magical ventilation and lighting that simply hadn’t turned on yet, but she could not find anything. She tuned back into the prefect asking if they had any questions. Harriet raised her hand and tried not to roll her eyes at the gesture. 

“Where are the lights?” Harriet asked, causing the prefect (a pureblood Harriet was sure of it) to frown. 

“The candles are already lit Harriet, this is as bright as it gets.”

“Then is the lab next door?” Harriet guessed again.

“The what?” The prefect gave her a blank look.

“The laboratory? You know? The place where we make the potions?” The prefect looked confused and a look around told her that Justin whats-his-name was the only who had the slightest idea what she was talking about. Joy.

“This is the potions class, where you do potions.” The prefect repeated himself. Harriet opened her mouth to rebuke him, but gave up and took a seat. There was an uneven number of Puffs in her year, so everyone but her sat down in partners. Harriet took a seat in the front row, with Abbott and Bones directly behind her. She pulled out her note-taking parchment, quill, ink, and textbook. Harriet began to mentally review everything she had learned about olde style potions. It was much more difficult than modern potions because the practitioner had to have such a deep understanding of potions that they instinctively knew what a potion needed. Unlike modern potions that called for “3 ounces of powered salt,” an olde style recipe would call for “three pinches of salt” and would rely on the user’s knowledge of exactly how much salt was needed, and how fine of salt was needed. The same potion would require slightly different amounts of the same ingredients depending on the air quality, time of day, freshness of ingredients, etc. The masters of this style just knew instinctively how this worked, without ever making a calculation. 

Harriet suspected that it would be lectures and demonstrations for months before these uneducated children could get even the faintest feel for this noble art. Harriet flipped through the first few chapters of the book as the Slytherins trickled into the class. Draco Malfoy sat down next to her, way too presumptuous. Harriet let herself pretend to be absorbed in the book as he made a futile attempt to get her attention without looking like he was trying to get her attention. Pah. Purebloods, such fussy creatures they were. She made him wait a few more minutes before she glanced up in surprise.

“Oh. Were you trying to talk to me? Sorry, I just _love_ books, they can be so distracting that you’ll need to speak up if you want me to notice.” She gave him startled doe eyes and watched him oscillate between offended and infatuated before settling on offended. Heh. He opened his mouth to say something when Severus Snape burst through the doors. Malfoy tried to hide a startled jump, but Harriet sees all. 

Severus immediately began with attendance, putting several ‘Puffs off their game. When he came to her name, he paused

"Ah, yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new— _celebrity_." Harriet could see several emotions swirling through his eyes and mentally recalled what she knew about the man. Her research had unearthed a childhood connection between him and Lily Evans, and Harriet had planned on using that to approach him later. That plan was reinforced when he finished taking attendance.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach." Yes, she would be taking all of this man’s knowledge for her own. 

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Harriet thought hard on her answer.

“Drought of the living death sir” Harriet replied firmly. Snape almost looked at her but then moved on. Was he avoiding eye contact?

“Correct.” With that, he began drilling other students. Malfoy was the other one able to answer his question correctly. Harriet felt like she was missing something, so she mentally reviewed the conversation and nearly choked. How had she missed that? Snape had just told her he regretted a loss. Probably her mother’s loss. Did he have something to do with it? Her research had unveiled that he was a spy for Dumbledore, but there had been rumors that he was using that as an excuse to stay out of prison. How close had he been to Voldemort before the man vanished? Harriet thought on this until Snape suddenly spelled a recipe on the board and told everyone to get started. Holy _shit_. Was he trying to kill them all? None of these buffoon new jack about potions, maybe he was trying to eliminate the stupid and unlucky early? Trial by fire? Harriet supposed she could get behind that logic. 

. . . 

October 31st, 2010

Hermione Granger was clinging to her for dear life, sobbing uncontrollably. Harriet tried not to be so obviously uncomfortable with the physical contact. 

“Uh. There there?” Harriet patted the top of her head awkwardly and was trapped in place by the sobbing octopus when an army of professors stormed the bathroom, wands drawn. Wow. A little bit late there. The entire posse gaped at the unconscious mountain troll, the destroyed bathroom, the sobbing Gryffindor firstie, and uncomfortable Puff. 

“What happened here?” McGonagall demanded. 

“I was on a walk when I heard a scream and came to investigate. I saw this troll trying to squash Miss Granger here, and reacted I guess?” Harriet made sure to sound unsure about everything that had just happened. 

“Why were you out in the hall? Were you looking for the troll?” McGonagall asked sharply getting ready to rip Harriet a new one. Harriet was not actually able to withhold the are-you-stupid look. 

“Do you realize what day today is? It’s the anniversary of my parent’s death. I got sick of seeing everyone celebrating that, so I went on a walk to clear my head. I had my prefect’s permission as long as I was back in the dorm before curfew. Why on earth would I know that there was a troll in the building? Much less go looking for it.” Harriet watched every single person, including Granger, flinch when she mentioned her parent’s death. Good. She had made sure that all of the Hufflepuffs knew that she was mourning today, the pity made them underestimate her and respect her day to day strength. McGonagall clearly regretted everything already, good. She addressed Granger much more gently.

“Miss Granger, what happened?” Still not releasing Harriet, Granger began throwing Weasly under the bus. Telling the teacher what he said, and how she had been in here crying for hours, and how when the Troll came, she would have died. Harriet was fairly pleased by all of this. She had just effectively neutered Weasley’s attempts to bully her. His bullying had nearly gotten her killed, and now shite would hit the fan. Weasley had been pretty annoying in his attempts to befriend her and she was trying to craft an angelic savior image so she couldn’t outright reject him. Harriet also appreciated how Granger continued piling praises on her, making Harriet’s attempts to be humble look even better. Also, the hero-worship in the girl’s eyes did wonderful things for Harriet’s ego. A highly-intelligent Gryffindor muggle-born as a close friend would do her image good. Harriet was fairly certain that she could train Granger into an appropriate vassel. This was an opportunity for Harriet to rectify her stark lack in non-puff minions. She already had Malfoy, but his servitude worked better for both of them if it remained secret. 

The accidental magic required to catch a Mountain Troll’s club mid-swing was impressive, that she managed to use said club to then knock out the impervious-to-magic troll was mind-blowing. She could see the awe forming in the teacher's eyes. Harriet remained mostly shy and humble and ‘just glad the Hermione is okay’. The entire school would know about this by tomorrow, she would make sure of it. Her cult would begin in earnest here. Harriet had studied the Grandmaster’s techniques and was sure that this is a great start to her seven-year plan.

. . .

December 25th, 2010

Harriet looked around at the mass of presents surrounding her. She had presents from every single one of her housemates, from several Ravenclaws, from Malfoy, from Longbottom, Granger, and the Weasley Matriarch. After setting up a PO box in Gringotts that redirected her mail, and paying the extra fee to have them screen for spells, poisons, and compulsions, Harriet also started receiving huge swaths of fan mail. She had three separate piles, people she knew, people she did not know, and super sketchy as heck mystery packages. 

Harriet had spent the entire morning reading fanmail and opening fan-gifts. She had a chest filled with simple owl ordered trinkets that she attached to her mountain of completed, personalized, thank you cards. Being famous was exhausting. After going through all the innocent fanmail, she moved onto formally declining the seventy-or-so marriage proposals that had arrived for her. Harriet was well aware that several pureblood families were holding off on the normal arranged marriages, and it wasn’t until now that she realized how many families were hoping that she would marry their sons or daughters. After going through all the innocent, and official fan mail, and after sending thank yous off to the people she actually knew, Harriet cast a Tempus to tell her the time. It was nearly dinner. She stood up and stretched feeling her back pop. 

Harriet glanced at her third pile, it consisted of only one present which had been under the Hufflepuff tree when she awoke, the only gifts there were from people within Hufflepuff who hadn’t mailed her their gifts. This one, however, was unsigned and super suspicious. Deciding to get this finished before dinner, Harriet began casting detection spells in various languages from around the world. She pulled out a couple different types of focuses from her trunk and examined the parcel further. Finally, she used a focus designed for telekinetic magic to open the present from across the room. Fortunately, it did not explode or have any other reaction. After a couple of examination spells on the cloak held within, Harriet realized that someone sent her an invisibility cloak. Her excited grin turned into a purely malicious one when she realized that the cloak had no registration number on it. Someone had sent her an unregistered invisibility cloak. A note fluttered out of the folds of fabric. 

_Your father left this in my possession when he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well._

The heck? 

Harriet had been in this school for four months. Who _dare_ keep this from her for so long? Harriet was displeased, she would discover the source of this slight, and have words with them someday. Stashing the cloak in her expanded bag, she sealed away her gifts and headed down to the hall for dinner. This was her first time celebrating the Western holiday, and she felt that her performance thus far had been adequate enough for her to convince anyone that she too celebrates Christmas.

. . .

May 27th, 2011

Harriet stared down at Quirrel. The light was leaving his eyes as he bled out from a deep slash across his throat. Her bloody blade had returned to its sheath under her robes. Quirrel had a look of shocked horror as he died. Harriet felt tears begin to spill from her eyes and fell to her knees. Voldemort’s damned spirit left Quirrel’s body and he paused, momentarily incredulous. 

“No no no! I’m sorry it was an accident. I didn’t- I didn’t mean for this to happen. I was just trying to get out of the ropes!” Harriet let the blood soak into her uniform as she pawed desperately at the dead man. She knew that today would not be the day she finished the undead sycophant. Voldemort looked so confused she almost laughed, but that would break her image. Voldemort realized what she was doing when Dumbledore stormed the room, wand out, blasting Voldemort further into the abyss. Good, Hermione had retrieved the goat right on schedule.

Harriet continued sobbing uncontrollably and desperately begging Quirrel not to die. Dumbledore had to forcibly pull her away from the corpse and get a broken story about her, and Hermione going to stop Snape. How Mcgonagall had brushed them off, and Hermione was so sure that the stone would be taken tonight. How there was only enough potion for Harriet to make it through and Quirrel was there and he tied her up and shoved her in front of the mirror and ordered look at herself in the mirror and find his jewels. Harriet didn’t want to find or touch anyone’s jewels and she was so scared that she tried a wandless cutting charm to free herself and escape but something happened and it was an accident.

. . .

June 10th, 2011

Dumbledore was a man who had made many mistakes throughout his life. He was coming to realize that he made a grave miscalculation. He stood in his office, looking out the window to where Harriet made her way out of the building, surrounded by an army of Hufflepuffs. The poor girl had been a shadow of herself ever since the incident two weeks ago. Harriet was pale, withdrawn, and constantly flinching at shadows. Word had gotten out that Quirrel was secretly a death eater and had kidnapped her. Rumors spread like wildfire, and suddenly everyone was under the assumption that Harry had bravely and heroically fought the dastardly man off and Quirrel had fled into hiding. When word got out, people said that he died from wounds Harry had given him during the fight. What made everything worse, was that Harriet must have said something to one of the upperclassmen. A much quieter rumor going around was that he had tried to assault her. Everyone was calling her a tragic hero, and the Hufflepuffs had closed ranks around the girl ever since. The only non-puff allowed anywhere near her was Hermione. It had clearly been too soon to test the poor girl, but perhaps after the summer, Harriet would be well enough to try again. 

In all of his concerned musings, Dumbledore never even suspected that buried deep in a hidden compartment of Harry’s trunk was a glimmering red stone. 

. . . 

June 11th, 2011

Harriet sat comfortably in the Dursley’s living room, reading up on a year’s worth of global news. She had Dudder’s new laptop and was staring in shock at the article before her. 

**Bruce Wayne Reveals Youngest Son, Damian Wayne.**

She had shifted over to US and Gotham news because Damian had been informed that his father was the Batman shortly before she left. Well. Now she knew who Batman was. But seriously, what the hell? Harriet began reading every article she could find, before pulling out an electromagnet from her bag. After ensuring the computer was thoroughly fried and no evidence of her search history remained, Harriet hopped to her feet, it appeared that she was going to Gotham. 


	3. Reunite

July 18th, 2011, Gotham

Harriet watched from her vantage point, as the freighter docked in Gotham harbor. It was late at night, and the crew planned on going straight to a hotel for the night, but that mattered not. Harriet had been stowed away for seven days, it was child’s play at this point to wait for them to leave before slipping off the ship. Harriet was dressed in her league gear, looking like an androgynous ninja with only her stature giving away any part of her identity.

Harriet slipped through the city like a ghost, it was just before midnight, Harriet wanted to reconnect with Damian as soon as possible, spending half the night searching did not appeal to her. Her solution was simple, Google Maps was able to easily direct her to the address of Wayne Manor. Forty-five minutes and three wrong turns later, Harriet was carefully working her way through the impressive Wayne security. She had definitely been picked up on a couple cameras, but she was ninety-percent sure that she hadn’t set off any alarms. Getting a window open was possibly the most difficult part so far, she had to actively prevent several alarms from being triggered simultaneously while slipping inside and resetting alarms to re-arm themselves. Harriet took a deep breath, she was in. 

Harriet slipped through the seemingly abandoned manor with the ease of a well-practiced assassin, avoiding cameras and carefully not tripping any alarms within the home. Still, it took a solid thirty minutes to clear the first floor’s lived-in spaces of any bedrooms. From there she had to slip up to the second floor without detection which was significantly more difficult as she quickly realized that paths too and from the bedrooms were the most heavily monitored areas.

The first bedroom she stumbled upon, was neatly made an set aside as if for guests, but with the personal touches of a teenager. From the pictures lining the walls and the giant Flying Graysons poster on the wall, Harriet felt that it was safe to assume that this room belonged to Richard Grayson, Bruce Wayne’s first adopted ward. Harriet didn’t know if Grayson was currently residing here, so she took care to leave nothing out of place and move on. 

Three rooms later Harriet found a large bedroom that had to belong to Damian. Harriet’s first clue was the precise cleanliness of the room, it was clearly lived in but far too well kept to the point of being nearly sterile. Her second clue was the way the bed was made. The corners were folded the exact same way that the Al Ghul’s servants folded their bed when they lived at the compound. Harriet hadn’t seen any other person or hotel that did it exactly the same as of yet. The other rooms had a different fold to the beds which suggested that someone else was responsible for the upkeep of those rooms. Her third and final clue was the large fluffy cat sitting primly on the bed. Damian had always had a thing for cats that Talia had yet to fully purge him of. Damian absolutely loved animals and would kill to have a cat of his own. There was no way that this cat belonged to anyone but Damian. Even if it hadn't originally when he moved in, every animal seemed to flock to Damian naturally. 

Upon finding the cat not hostile, Harriet let herself plop onto Damian’s bed, breathing in his scent. She gave herself a ten-minute rest before stashing her bag in his closet and settling into a hidden ambush point behind Damian’s bedroom door. 

It wasn’t until a while later that Damian himself returned to the manor and stepped into his bedroom. Harriet just watched for a moment, breathing in the sight of her most trusted ally. As Damian began to prepare for bed. Harriet slipped behind him without a sound.

Tsk tsk, in his time with his father, Damian seems to have forgotten a cardinal rule: never let your guard down. Harriet decided to re-educate him in the simplest way possible, she kicked his leg in from behind and watched him go down. Harriet moved with him as he tried to roll away, diving on top of him, putting one hand over his mouth, and pressing a dagger to his throat with the other. Damian instinctively froze at the dagger, looking fairly pissed until he realized who was on top of him. Then he looked extremely pissed.

“Tsk tsk Damian. You seem to have lost your touch.” Harriet whispered with a smug grin. Damian glared at her and started to move, so Harriet pressed the dagger closer, nicking him slightly. Damian went still once again, giving her a look that expressed how he felt about this more than words ever could, then he closed his eyes and slumped, clearly admitting defeat. Harriet smirked victoriously and pulled the dagger away.

“That’s another victory for me.” The moment she pulled her hands away and moved to get up, Damian rolled. He threw his suddenly superior weight and Harriet was on her back. 

“You are insufferable, Harriet. What are you doing here?” Damian asked in an equally quiet whisper, face less than an inch from hers. 

“I had some free time, so unlike some people, I decided to keep my word and visit.” Harriet raised an eyebrow in challenge.

“How on Earth would you expect me to visit you in the middle of a zone that repels non-magic users? How would you explain my presence when I inevitably made it through either?” Damian asked dryly. Harriet snorted.

“I guess that your stealth skills simply aren't good enough to make it work. You are right this time Damian.” Harriet breathed out with a teasing grin. Damian scowled and dropped more weight onto her. Harriet let out a near-silent oomf.

“Is that a challenge I hear?” Damian asked with a mockery of a grin.

“Only if you want to give me more easy points.” Harriet replied, baring her teeth in return and driving her knee into his gut. Damian made a quiet noise, but was not dislodged. 

“Now get the bloody hell off me you arse.” Harriet demanded and poked him in a pressure point on his shoulder just for good measure. 

“Well since you asked so nicely.” Damian drawled and rolled off her, laying out on the floor next to her. Neither made a move to get up.

“So how long will you be visiting?” Damian asked after a moment.

“A couple weeks. I’ll need to be back soon.” Harriet let out an exaggerated yawn. 

“I can find accommodations in the city so as to not disturb your cover.” Harriet spoke softly, not really wanting to make her way out of the fortress that was the Wayne manor after working so hard to get in. 

“Nonsense Harriet. It is late and you are more than welcome here. Father allows me to have guests whenever I so choose. Though perhaps it will be better to introduce you in the morning and avoid mentioning that you got through his security.” Damian replied calmly. Harriet grinned.

“Does that mean we’re having a sleepover?” Damian rolled his eyes but nodded.

“It’s not like it would be the first time.” Harriet grinned and rose with the grace of a predator. 

When stood face to face, Harriet felt something akin to horror seep into her very soul. At the exact same time, Harriet watched Damian’s eyes fill with an unholy glee. Damian was taller than her. _Damian_ was _taller_ than _her._ He had nearly three fucking centimeters on her. 

“ _Bugger_ _off_.” She hissed as Damian’s lips twitched.

“I said nothing Harriet.” Damian didn’t quite grin, but the pure unsolicited joy was there in his eyes.

“Damn right you didn’t. Because there’s nothing to say.” Harriet growled.

“Well if I agreed with that statement I would be lying, but we both already know that.” Damian’s god damned lips _twitched_ again. That _fucker_. Harriet scowled.

“Fuck this. I’m using your shower.” Harriet announced calmly.

“Preferably as soon as possible, you smell like Gotham Bay.” Damian replied as she turned to grab her things.

“I know where you sleep you bloody arse.” Harriet bit back and vanished into his on-suite without another word.

. . .

“Dami wake up there’s- ” The door to Damian’s bedroom slammed open with a bang, startling Harriet out of the deepest sleep she’d had in a long time. Despite her attempt to snap into a defensible position, Harriet found herself tangled in a mess of blankets and Damian’s limbs which were also trying to snap to attention. 

“Grayson, how many times have I told you to knock?” Damian bit out angrily as he untangled himself. A moment later he seemed to realize that he was untangling himself from another human being and blinked at Harriet. Harriet squinted at the figure frozen in the doorway and realized a tall dark-haired man was staring at them in open-mouthed shock. 

“An intruder.” The man- Grayson finished lamely. Harriet glanced over to Damian’s alarm clock which read 6:05 am. While stiff, Damian’s posture did not indicate that she was in imminent danger so she let herself fall back onto the bed, pulling the blankets back over herself, Damian made an offended noise.

“Harriet do not go back to sleep.” Harriet ignored him and made a quiet noise of protest when he jammed his fingers into her ribs. 

“Damian who is this.” A much deeper voice that did not belong to Grayson demanded.

“Father this is Harriet. I apologize for not introducing her last night but she arrived late and I thought it best to allow you all some sleep before exposing you to this complete and udder menace to society.” Damian spoke seriously.

“Fuck off Damian. You totally missed me.” Harriet grumbled, still not awake. 

“Where did she come from?” the deep voice asked at the same time Grayson said,

“Holy shit little Dami has a girlfriend. Who he sneaks into his bed in the middle of the night.” The first part was spoken with delight but the second part was spoken with horror. Before Damian could react, Harriet spoke up.

“Excuse you, I don’t need Damian to sneak me into anywhere. I am fully capable of sneaking on my own, better than Damian in fact.” Harriet cracked an eye open to look at Bruce Wayne in person. Damn, those were some good genes.

“Of course she is.” Grayson whispered in awe and received a sharp look from Bruce Wayne.

“Damian. Who is she and where did she come from? I have security footage of an intruder breaking into the manor.” The deep voice asked again.

“I’m Damian’s mate. His first, only, and best mate as a matter of fact.” Harriet replied sleepily burrowing back into the bed. She frowned the next thing she heard was choking. Lots of choking from all three people was all she got in response.

“She’s British. Harriet is British. We’re not- That’s not- That’s not what she was trying to say. Harriet is my childhood friend.” Damian bit out, stumbling over his words. That had Harriet cracking an eye open. Damian was very rarely thrown bad enough to start stumbling like this and it was usually a treat to watch. _Holy Shite_. Damian had a very light dusting of pink on his cheeks and he tried to talk. Disbelief and horror were on both of the other men’s faces, but it was starting to die down as a realization poured over them. 

“What did you think I said?” Harriet asked slowly, trying to replay their fuzzy conversation up until this point in her head. Damian gave her an annoyed look.

“Harriet, we are in the US, what does mate mean here?” He asked, a scathing tone seeping into his voice as he regained his composure far too soon for Harriet’s viewing pleasure. Still, she only took a moment to think about what he said before letting out a snort. 

“Yeah, no. Damian is an ass and would make a terrible consort. My standards are far too high to be in a romantic relationship with the likes of him.” Harriet said with an eye-roll. Damian gave her an offended look. He was doing that a lot lately.

“And Harriet is an absolute travesty of a human being. If I was willing to take her on as _my_ consort, she would be a terrible companion.” Damian bit back.

“Slow down you two. Who is Harriet? How did she get in the house, and most importantly, how come you didn’t tell me you had a little friend whose a girl?” Grayson interrupted, still torn between delight, horror, and something else entirely. Damian sighed and held up a hand to stop Harriet from violently explaining to Grayson why calling her ‘little’ was a mistake.

“This is Harriet. She is my grandfather’s temporary ward until she reaches her majority. Due to her circumstances, she was trained alongside me since we were young. I consider her an important ally. She has been away on a long term deep-cover mission for the past year and came to visit me now that she has been granted a reprieve.” Damian summarized. Both men looked surprised and discomforted by Damian’s revelations. 

“How old are you?” Was the next thing that came out of Grayson’s mouth. He looked much less delighted now.

“That’s classified, along with my mission and the rest of my personal information before you ask.” Harriet spoke nonchalantly.

“Since when does Ra’s Al Ghul take in wards?” Bruce Wayne asked next, giving Damian a hard look. Joke’s on him. Damian doesn’t actually know why, Harriet is forbidden from telling anyone that if she dies, Ra’s is fucked. Not that she would want to anyway. That’s not the kind of target she wants on her back.

“Harriet is a special case.” Was Damian’s only response. Bruce Wayne gave her a long look and Harriet felt a sense of deja vu. Bruce Wayne was staring at her eyes and coming to the conclusion that those Lazarus Green eyes came directly from Ra’s’ DNA. _No_. Not fucking again.

“I’m not related to Grandmaster.” Harriet denied vehemently before he could ask. 

“I didn’t suggest you were.” Bruce Wayne replied evenly.

“No, but you were thinking it. Damn it all. Why does everyone always jump to the same damn conclusion?” Harriet demanded angrily, looking at Damian for answers.

“Because you two have the same eyes? Because he ordered mother to give you the same treatment as me? There are several reasons.” Damian suggested with a you-are-an-idiot tone. Harriet scowled again. 

“Why was- Harriet, in your bed?” Grayson asked next.

“Because she needed a place to stay the night. And preferably for the entire duration of her stay in Gotham.” Damian replied, giving his father a look.

“But why did she need to stay in _your bed_?” Grayson asked again.

“Why is he so stuck on that? I was led to believe that the first apprentice was more intelligent than this?” Harriet asked Damian in return.

“While Grayson is a worthy opponent in combat, he is unfortunately afflicted with western values and is afraid of us copulating if left unsupervised in the same bed.” Damian replied without hesitation. 

“Apprentice?” Bruce Wayne asked sharply at the same time Grayson let out a horrified wail.

“Dami! Baby brother! Your too young to know about that kind of thing.” 

“Why would we copulate? That is ridiculous. We are too young to physically create heirs, and we will not need any heirs until we are older.” Harriet asked, ignoring both of the other comments. Damian shrugged.

“Most adolescents in this country struggle to maintain basic measures of sanity and discipline during their development. Most do not regain it as adults either. For many citizens, copulation amongst young people is a startlingly valid concern.” Harriet scrunched up her face in disgust.

“Seriously?” Harriet found herself asking.

“I do not jest on these matters.” Damian replied.

“Apprentice?” Bruce Wayne prompted again. 

“Yes yes. Talia informed us a long time ago that Damian was the son of the Batman. Discovering that Damian was revealed to the media as a Wayne was a recent discovery, yet if I were unable to put these facts together, I would be far more incompetent than Grayson appears.” Harriet replied, waving her hand dismissively. 

“Harriet, are you requesting to sleep on the street?” Damian hissed out with an annoyed look before Grayson could reply. Harriet immediately started to say something properly biting, but Bruce Wayne interrupted again.

“Damian who else did Talia tell?” He spoke with enough authority and imperiousness that made Harriet immediately bristle.

“Only a select few high ranking members within the league. Though all members know that I am mother’s son and that I am to be treated with the privileges of my status.” Damian replied hesitantly.

“And Harriet?” Bruce Wayne prompted.

“Harriet is also of high status within the league as she is Grandfather’s ward.” Damian replied calmly, then his brows furrowed.

“Harriet, does Grandfather know you are here?” He asked suspiciously, he already knew the answer. 

“Of course not. I only have a week or so and I will not have enough time to return to the compound because I am making this trip. As far as he knows, I was unable to find time to slip away.” Harriet replied as casually and dismissively as possible. To her glee, Damian puffed up like a ruffled bird.

“ You cannot just lie to Grandfather! ” Damian nearly screeched in angry Arabic, too furious to think straight. 

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt anyone. Especially not me or you for that matter. We’re _fiiiine_.” Harriet shrugged and watched his mouth open and close a couple times in anger.

“Harriet you know just how well Grandfather handles insubordination. Grandfather will find out.” Damian bit out in anger.

“Meh. Probably. But by the time he finds out, I will be back in deep cover. By the time I see him again either his temper will have cooled, or I will be of age and need not return.” Harriet replied with a shrug.

“Wait what?” Grayson interrupted intelligently. 

“Harriet has decided that visiting me for a fickle promise made during our parting more than a year ago is more important than avoiding Grandfather’s wrath. She is going to get herself severely punished.” Damian growled out angrily.

“Well, too late now, I’m already here.” Harriet smirked at the still angry Damian. 

“Damian, how could you not tell me you had a _friend_?” Grayson interrupted, settling on a grin, the way he said the word friend made Damian scowl delightfully. 

“Grayson I do not need your inane sentimentality right now.” Damian then paused to sigh deeply, as if he was giving up entirely.

“Father I request permission for Harriet to remain here until she must return to her mission.” Damian asked slowly.

“Maybe not in your bedroom, but I’m sure we can find a guest bedroom for her.” Bruce Wayne said slowly after a long minute. 

. . .

July 19th, 2011, Wayne Manor

Harriet gasped as Damian’s knee collided with her gut. In the second where Harriet tried to pull air back into her lungs, Damian was shoving her to the ground, trying to pin her. Harriet snarled, and threw her weight sideways, pulling them into a roll. They rolled at least three times across the grass, in the mass of limbs, Harriet’s knee collided with Damian’s groin and he made a pained sound. While not intentional, Harriet used the distraction to her advantage to end their wrestle with her on top, managing to pin one of Damian’s arms to his side with her thigh. She caught his other wrist in her hand and tried to shove her forearm against his throat. Damian was heavier and stronger than Harriet however, and freed his wrist before she could get him in a proper pin. Pushing up with the one arm, he managed to roll them and break Harriet’s pin. Now on top, he swung a fist at her gut. Harriet moved to block it, but Damian pulled the swing into a feint, grabbing her wrist and pinning it with his unfortunately superior raw strength. In a split second, her other wrist was pinned, and Harriet couldn’t escape. She thrashed for a long moment, before going limp and breathing heavily. She was exhausted.

“Do you yield?” 

Damian didn’t look much better. His skin was littered in light cuts from the many daggers that were now buried deep in every surface around the yard. A sluggishly bleeding cut on her shoulder reminded her of Damian’s katana which was buried at least a foot into the oak tree nearby, at least a solid ten feet above ground level. She met his burning green eyes and bared her teeth in a mockery of a grin. It had been too long since they were last able to let loose like this. 

“I yield.” Harriet spoke solemnly. Damian grinned like a shark.

“That makes it 527-528 in my favor.” Harriet rolled her eyes and a slight cough made both their eyes snap up. Another tall guy broad guy who she hadn’t met stood in the doorway to the manor. He was frowning at them in confusion, when she glanced up at the white streak in his hair, recognition dawned on her. She glanced at Damian who had yanked himself off of her in confusion.

“What’s one of Talia’s pet projects doing here?” She asked in concern. The man made an angry noise, but Damian interrupted his response.

“He is Jason Todd, one of father’s previous Robins. Mother took him in after he died. It is complicated and not something that any of us would like to speak about right now.” Damian spoke quickly, giving her a meaningful look.

“What the hell, Demon Spawn?” Todd demanded, looking annoyed. 

“Todd, this is Harriet, my childhood friend who came to visit me. Harriet will be staying here until she must return to her mission.” Damian introduced. Jason eyed the two of them, Damian was in a loose running ensemble, and Harriet was dressed in black workout shorts and a dark tee-shirt. They were covered in bruises, sluggishly bleeding cuts, and still breathing heavily from the brutal fight to the death he had stumbled upon. He glanced down at his coffee, he had a look on his face that clearly said it was too early for this shit.

“Since when do you have friends?” Jason asked bluntly.

“Did you just call him Demon Spawn?” Harriet asked in confusion, interrupting Jason.

“Yeah, what of it?” 

“I think your mistaken, Ra’s Al Ghul is the demon head, not Talia. Unless you're referring to Bruce Wayne, it would be accurate to call him bat-spawn.” Harriet put on her best confused expression, watching Todd stumble over what to say next. Damian snorted. Todd then looked at Damian like he grew a second head.

“You think this is funny? You don’t think anything is funny.” Todd looked torn between confused and offended, but Harriet already started her cool-down stretches. 

“Damian you should stretch too, or you’ll get stiff.” Harriet spoke when Damian did not join her. Damian opened his mouth to rebuke, but she gave him a ‘try-me-I-dare-you’ look. He gave her his put upon ‘seriously?’ look, but Harriet did not break eye contact. She gave him her ‘I-will-fight-you’ look of challenge and Damian sighed, rolled his eyes, and started doing stretches. A splash had them both looking at Todd, whose coffee had slipped from his lax grip. His eyes were wide, and his mouth was slightly open, at a loss for words. 

“It’s like watching replacement and Brown, but, like, worse.” Jason muttered looking shocked and horrified. Todd moved back into the house, not wanting anything more to do with them, and Harriet glanced at Damian for answers, the outraged scowl told its own story. 


	4. Growing Pains

July 20th, 2011

Dick and Tim walked into the living room and paused. Damian was sprawled across the couch in an unguarded way that they had never seen on the boy before. Alfred the Cat was purring contentedly on his chest while Harriet rambled on about how she wanted to go sightseeing in Gotham. What surprised them the most was what Harriet was doing while she rambled. Harriet was balanced upside down, on one hand. She continued rambling and clearly wasn’t even listening to what she was saying at this point. Her whole focus was on her hand. She lifted her palm, balancing all of her mass on the five fingers. Then, her words trailed off, as she pulled back finger after finger until all her weight was on her index finger. 

“I told you I could do it.” Harriet muttered smugly while holding perfectly still.

“Sure, if you can hold it for one minute without breaking your finger, then I will admit defeat on this one.” Damian spoke casually as if he hadn’t just offered to admit defeat for the first in either Dick or Tim’s memory. Despite his casual air, Damian was now focused on Harriet’s form. Watching intently as the seconds ticked by. At the one minute mark, Damian tsked and Harriet’s arm began to tremble slightly. Another minute ticked by and her arm started to seriously wobble. At that point, she slammed her left hand back down, let her right hand fall back to supporting her with her palm, and then backflipped into a standing position with a bright grin.

“How long?” 

“Two minutes and twelve seconds.” Damian hissed with all the dignity of a ruffled cat. 

“Hah! That counts as two points for me! 529-528!” Harriet crowed in delight, Damian looked outraged.

“What? No! That was not what we agreed on.” Damian growled, sitting up and disturbing Alfred The Cat. 

“Well can you hold that pose for one minute?” Harriet asked, sauntering up to him and attempting to poke him in the forehead. Damian made an outraged noise and swatted the hand away.

“You know full well what I am capable of Harriet.” Damian grumbled, Harriet’s smirk grew into something very smug. 

“Then two points for me!” Harriet crowed and fell backward onto her hands into a handstand so casual that only Dick could have looked as graceful. 

“Holy shit. I just realized why your Damian’s favorite, you two are similar.” Tim muttered, looking between her and Dick repeatedly. Harriet and Damian glanced over as if just noticing their presence. 

“Awww Damian is that true? Do you miss me? Does widdle Dickie make you feel less homesick?” Harriet cooed teasingly. 

“Of course I missed you Harriet, but Grayson is nothing like you and the comparison is honestly ridiculous.” Damian glared at Tim furiously but did not deny missing Harriet. Tim and Dick exchanged flabbergasted looks. 

“Is there a reason that you two are here?” Damian asked, sounding annoyed.

“Umm, we live here?” Tim snarked

“Also Alfred says dinner is ready.” Dick added on. Damian nodded at Dick and got up. Harriet started walking upside down toward the dining area when Damian gave her a disgusted look and poked her harshly with his foot. She yelped and fell over in a heap.

“That is undignified and unsanitary. Go wash your hands before you eat.” Damian ordered. Harriet rolled her eyes.

“Yes, mom.”

. . . 

Bruce Wayne, Drake, Todd, Grayson, Damian, Mr. Pennyworth, and a girl who Damian introduced as Cassandra all sat awkwardly at the dinner table. A heavy silence sat over the table as Harriet ate her dinner.

“So, Harriet, why don’t you tell us about you? Do you have any hobbies?” Grayson asked, trying to make conversation. Damian opened his mouth to say something appropriately biting and hostile, but Harriet was already replying. 

“Sure! As you all know, my name is Harriet and I’m currently on leave from a long term, deep cover mission. My hobbies mostly include training, hanging out with Damian, and I have just recently added petting Alfred the Cat to this list, as he is fluffy and adorable.” Harriet stated proudly as if having three hobbies was impressive. 

“Right. So how do you find Gotham-” Grayson started to ask when Todd interrupted him.

“What’s your mission? And how long have you been training with the League?” He asked bluntly. Damian looked furious, but Harriet gave him her ‘I-got-this’ look. 

“My mission is classified, and I’ve been training with Damian a long time, not that it’s any of your business.” Harriet gave Todd a challenging look.

“How many other brainwashed kids have do they have in there? Where do they get them for that matter? Were you kidnapped?” Todd asked again, giving her a challenging look right back.

“Hey wait a minute-” Grayson started to interrupt, but Harriet ignored him. 

“I’m not brainwashed and neither is Damian. The league doesn’t kidnap kids to fill their ranks. They may not be kind, but they work to better the world. I am a special case and Damian is the heir to grandmaster’s empire.” Harriet replied, feeling her temper start to build.

“Oh sure, your great and mighty league makes the world a better place, one assassination at a time. That sure doesn’t sound like brainwashing to me.” Todd replied sarcastically.

“Jason” Bruce Wayne started to rebuke him, but Harriet was not letting this go.

“The league only kills when necessary, we remove scum from the land of the living, and only when necessary. I can guarantee that each decision to kill came because there was no better alternative. I chose this path. I choose my own destiny.” Harriet snarled, standing up and ignoring the chair falling behind her. 

“That sounds more like you were brainwashed into believing that. A good organization wouldn’t pop out child soldiers and definitely wouldn’t go around assassinating people to solve their problems. If you wanted out, would they just let you leave?” Jason responded furiously standing up and slamming his hand on the table.

“Yes! Because I have the choice. And you lot have no room to throw stones. Talia raised us and taught us what we needed to survive! Wayne over here makes a much bigger habit of raising child soldiers than we do. How many sidekicks has Batman let die? Oh that’s right! Two! And how many children has Talia raised and let die? _Zero_. You go around deciding who gets the shite beat out of them every night based on some loose moral code and what has come of it? Nothing! Gotham is just as crime-ridden as ever! The league doesn’t tolerate needless death. People who live under the league’s control don’t have to worry about crime, or poverty because the league does shite the right way!” Harriet hissed, letting her words cut deeper than her daggers could ever manage. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bruce Wayne flinch. Hard.

“Harriet! Enough.” Damian bit out, standing up now too. Harriet glanced at him and then around to the rest of the table that was giving her hard looks. She met Todd’s eyes and didn’t flinch.

“You asked if I could walk away from the league. The answer is yes. Anytime I want. I have a question for you. If Damian wanted to walk away from you, and the rest of this household would you let him?” Harriet asked, eyes hard. Grayson looked offended

“Of course we would, he can drop the mantle of Robin any time he wants.” Grayson sounded so indigent, Harriet met his eyes.

“That is not what I asked. If Damian wanted to walk away from this household, and never speak to any of you again, would you let him leave?” Harriet asked, and Damian sucked in a sharp breath behind her.

“Of course not. Damian’s eleven, he isn’t old enough to be on his own. Were his family, we wouldn’t let him do that.” Grayson replied, annoyed but slightly more hesitant.

“Then how do you claim to be different than the league. I hold no ties and am free to leave, but Talia claims blood ties to keep Damian bound to his fate. You do the same. Have any of you ever asked what Damian wants?” Harriet asked bitingly.

“Harriet. Stop.” Damian hissed. Grayson gave Damian an alarmed look.

“Dami? Do you feel that way? You know you have options right?” Grayson started, but Harriet interrupted before Damian could speak.

“Does he really though? His options are what? Live with you, with his father? Hah! Some choices. He’s known all of you barely a year. You have all been part of his life for barely a fraction of it, yet you claim to know what is best for him without consulting him on this.” Harriet snarled. The room was silent, so Harriet kept going.

“You all barely know a thing about Damian, and you scorn him for being who he is. You lecture his behavior when in the short time I’ve been here, I’ve witnessed Damian go against every bit of training that was beaten into him his entire life. You scold him for violence, yet Damian has been more passive than I’ve ever seen him. If Damian had even suggested leaving an enemy alive to his mother, he might not survive the punishment training. Giving an enemy a chance to get stronger and come back as an even worse problem later is simply not an option for us. After that, Damian explained your no-kill policy to me just this morning. You all don’t even realize how much he has changed. Yet it’s not good enough for any of you. The last time I saw Damian, he was being raised with one purpose. He was told his entire life that he had to be ruthless, powerful, and infallible to impress his father, The Batman. He was never told who this man was, or anything about him. Only that the whole reason he was created by Talia was to be the perfect gift from her to Batman. How do you think that felt, to be objectified, to know that if he was not good enough to please this mysterious powerful man, his entire existence would be useless? Do you know what the League does with useless things? They eliminate them. So yes, please continue to be disappointed in Damian going against everything he believes in and changing his whole world view, knowing what the league would do if he showed such weakness. Please continue being disappointed in him for using excessive violence when he was trained from birth to go for the kill. Please continue scolding him for being who he is, because it’s not good enough for you. In fact, please keep telling him how much he failed when failure means death where he comes from. Please keep telling him that he isn’t good enough for Batman, the sole reason for his existence. In fact, I dare you. Damian may worship the ground you all walk upon, but I will not put up with you all treating him like less than he’s worth. I swear I will-”

“Harriet.” Damian interrupted with such quiet rage that Harriet stopped, taking a deep breath. The two shared a long look with uninterrupted silence. 

“It needed to be said, Damian. I’m not going to let their hypocritical family shite continue. I have words and knives, and I know which one you prefer.” The two shared another long look before Damian let out an aggravated noise. The rest of the family remained silent, at a loss for words, as Damian stood and left the room. Harriet stood to follow and to their surprise, Damian didn’t stop her. 

The rest of the room sat in increasingly awkward silence for some time before excusing themselves to think about what they witnessed privately. 

. . .

Less than an hour later Harriet found herself idly twirling around a flagpole, thirty some odd feet up, while Damian took his aggression out on some gangsters below her. She itched to join him but knew he needed to blow off some steam so to speak. When one older scarred woman pulled a pistol out of her pocket, Harriet did not hesitate to whip a dagger out and hurl it deep into the woman’s hand. That got her a sharp reprimand so she returned to waiting for him to blow off steam, well, waiting and sulking. But that was beside the point.

She sprawled on her back across the flagpole and stared up at the foggy sky. It was times like this that she missed the clear view of the stars that the dessert offered. Sure, Hogwarts had a similar view, but it just was not the _same_. On the rooftop far above her, a shadow moved. Harriet narrowed her eyes. It was a suspiciously Nightwing shaped shadow. She wiggled her fingers up at him and sat up. Not giving Nightwing her back, she glanced back down at Robin. He was finishing up the last gangster. Figuring he had the situation well under control, Harriet scaled the wall. She didn’t have a fancy grappling gun like the bats did, so she was careful to make her climb look as effortless as possible. Harriet would much rather they assume she didn’t need one. 

As soon as she settled on the ledge, Nightwing materialized next to her. 

“Does Batman know that Robin took you with him on his patrol?” Despite Nightwing’s utterly serious tone, Harriet snorted. 

“Phu-leease like Batman could stop me from tagging along. Besides, I’m not even doing anything.” Harriet waved her hand dismissively.

“What do you call that dagger? The woman down there may never be able to get full use from her hand again.” Nightwing protested with a severe tone. 

“If she wasn’t prepared to lose her hand, she shouldn’t have pulled a gun on Robin.” Harriet rolled her eyes. She’d gone more than easy on the woman. Nightwing made an offended noise, but before he could respond, a grappling hook clicked onto the ledge, and Robin was pulled up a moment later. 

“Nightwing.” Robin greeted cooly.

“Robin!” Nightwing’s whole attitude shifted into a much cheerier demeanor at his “younger brother’s” arrival. 

“Can we talk for a minute? In private?” Nightwing asked with a smile. Yeah right. As if Damian would shoo her away like some servant- No. He did _not just_ \- Harriet’s train of thought died as Damian nodded and gave Harriet an apologetic look. Harriet scowled and patted him on the shoulder in a ‘we-will-have- _words'_ gesture, and leaped off the roof. Harriet pulled the trigger on Robin’s backup grappling gun and just barely made out Damian’s ‘Tt’ as he realized she took it from his belt. He was going to be even madder when he realized that she had the keys to his motorcycle. Robin really needed a reality check. He was getting waaaay to comfortable around those he considered allies. Harriet was doing him a favor really, what if he let his guard down around the wrong person. Like Talia. Harriet shuddered at the thought and climbed on his motorcycle. Life lessons like this were important. 

. . . 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Bruce Wayne's harsh tone cut through the Batcave. Harriet glanced over to the outraged man. She was dressed in a Robin hoodie and cheap sunglasses that she bought off a tourist stand and in the process of taking selfies with the OG Batman and Robin costumes on display. She was trying to see how ridiculous and touristy she could get her poses. That, and making gangster signs in front of the costumes. 

“Practicing my tourist persona. I’m trying to get the truly cringy tourist act down to a science.” Harriet said with an easy shrug and a heavy southern US accent. She ignored his whole body twitch and started making kissy faces at her camera, adding the peace sign for extra effect. 

“Stop.” Bruce Wayne said quietly, with full outraged Batman voice. Harriet kept a carefree look on her face and suppressed the terrified shudder. Behind him, Drake twitched at the voice, a look of horrified awe growing on his face. Harriet however, gave Batman her best pout. She was working on her spoiled teenager persona simultaneously. 

“It’s only a couple pictures.” She said mildly. 

“Give me the phone.” Bruce Wayne bit out, walking toward her, and holding out his hand for the phone. Harriet rolled her and put her hands on her hips.

“Why should I?” At that moment, Damian burst into the room. Harriet watched curiously as his face went from panicked trying to find her, to relieved at locating her, to panicked at seeing her midway through giving Batman attitude. 

“Harriet. What did you do?” Damian spoke sternly marching up between them.

“She was taking pictures.” Bruce Wayne spoke angrily.

“How did she get down here?” He asked, directing his question at Damian.

“She’s Harriet. Harriet has been trained by the best in the world.” He spoke apologetically before turning toward her with a hard expression and held his hand out. They stared each other down for a solid thirty seconds before Harriet rolled her eyes and handed him the phone. Damian scoffed in response and walked away, back to where they stored gear and pulled out some sort of device. Harriet realized what was about to happen and made a noise of protest a moment too late. She watched sadly as her phone started emitting sparks and smoke as Damian brutally murdered it with whatever the device was.

“Rude.” Harriet whined after watching him pocket the destroyed phone.

“Since when do Ra’s people use smartphones?” Drake asked cautiously. 

“We do whatever we need to in order to blend in during undercover missions. Besides, If I don’t know how to use something, how can I combat it effectively?” Harriet replied with a shrug. 

“Harriet you are not allowed to be down here.” Damian interrupted with a scowl, eyeing his father cautiously. Harriet snorted. They shared a long stare before Harriet sighed and walked with him toward the elevator.

“See that this does not happen again.” Bruce Wayne called out to Damian before the elevator closed around them.

“Harriet why must you antagonize father?” Damian sighed.

“Well, if must know-” Harriet started.

“That was rhetorical.” Damian cut her off. Harriet pouted for real this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harriet is an unreliable narrator. Her logic might lack consistency, but if you've ever met a twelve year old, there is nothing consistent about them. Whatcha think?


	5. Year 2

July 25th, 2011 1:32 A.M, Wayne Manor

“Harriet?” Damian called out. He had just gotten back from patrol. Harriet had wandered off just before his patrol had started, however unlike previous nights, she had not met up with him during his patrol. When he arrived back at the Batcave, she wasn’t waiting there either. Finally, he checked upstairs and was growing concerned when she was nowhere to be found. There was a note on his desk and a metal box. 

_Damian,_

_It is time for me to return to my mission. I will visit again when I am able. Please keep this safe and hidden for me. It contains an invaluable asset that must remain out of the hands of your grandfather. I cannot take it with me on my mission for fear of it being discovered. Do not open it._

_Be Safe,_

_Harriet_

_XOXOXO_

_ <3 <3 <3 _

Damian read the note twice, committing it to memory, then he pulled out a lighter from his desk and burned the note. Next he took the box and stashed it in the false bottom of a hidden safe in his room, and put it out of mind. If Harriet wanted it kept safe, then he would not draw attention to it. 

. . . 

July 31st, 2011, Private Drive Number Four

Harriet sat in Dursley’s living room, surrounded by presents from her friends, housemates, and fans. Gringotts had also provided a list of all the malicious presents she had received, the contents of which had been turned over to the authorities. Just like Christmas, Harriet prepared thank you notes for each present, however instead of hand writing them, she had gone to a stationary shop and had several hundred preprinted thank you cards with her signature pre-printed on them. She also owl-ordered several quills that would dictate her words. Between the custom, pre-printed notes, and the quills that wrote the individual name, and mail address on the envelope, Harriet spent half as much time on fan mail as she did over Christmas. Thinking ahead, she had the stationary shop print several hundred custom Christmas and Yule thank you cards for her. She also had a couple stamps with her ‘autograph’ signature on it. Unless she signs a paper herself, it will not hold up to magical law, so she was not concerned about the danger of doing so. 

Harriet glanced at the drop dead gorgeous white owl sitting on a perch next to her. She had been calling her Owl for the past year since she had been gifted to Harriet by Hagrid. Leaving her with Hermione, her loyal minion, had not been a _mistake_ per say, but now Owl only responded to being called Hedwig. Hermione had been so offended when she introduced the bird as Owl, that Harriet was not really surprised. Harriet was more than willing to overlook this as Hermione was proving to be a more than adequate minion. She left Hermione with Hedwig and a pile of galleons for the month. In return, Hermione took excellent care of Hedwig, bought all of her school supplies for her, and mailed them back to her when she returned from visiting Damian. 

When she was putting the last of her outgoing mail through a two way box to Gringotts, a house elf appeared before her. 

“Misses Harry Potter must not return to Hogwarts!”

. . . 

September 1st, 2011, Hogwarts

Harriet stepped off the train and stared. Real. Live. Thestrals. They were gorgeous. The real question was how could she get one for Damian. This would make an excellent present for the animal lover. 

. . . 

October 31st, 2011, Hogwarts

Harriet and Hermione froze as they stared at the message written on the wall. 

_“The Chamber of Secrets has been opened enemies of the heir . . . beware”_

Harriet had only a moment to think on her feet, and came to the only logical conclusion. She screamed, high pitched and horrified, at the top of her lungs. It was a scream that would bring the entire school storming on to her location. Hermione, bless her soul, immediately latched onto her arm and put herself between Harriet and the wall, wand out, ready to fight whatever did this. There was no need however, because half the school was on them in moments. 

Internally, Harriet sighed. The Hufflepuffs were just starting to ease up on the overprotective watcher routine. They were never going to let her go anywhere alone ever again. 

. . .

November 2011, Quidditch Pitch 

Harriet shouted a belated apology as she sent a bludger flying at an unlucky Ravenclaw. This would be the third one she took out of the game so far. At age twelve, she was all of four foot eight, eighty pounds soaking wet, Hufflepuff, and the best beater Hogwarts has seen in a century. The captain would cry for joy if only she would stop apologizing everytime she knocked someone out of the sky.

Harriet loved life.

. . . 

December 2011, Hogwarts

Harriet stared in outrage at Colin Creevy’s petrified form. Creevy was _her_ minion. No one messed with her minions. She had an absurdly large shipment of raw mandrake root, every other ingredient needed to make the cure, and several potions that were known to cure several different forms of petrification, on route. She planned on donating it to the school very publically over winter break. She would have to move her schedule up in the light of this. 

. . . 

December 25th, 2011, Wayne Manor

_Tap, tap, tap_.

Damian stared uncomprehendingly at the kitchen window. A pidgeon was tapping incessantly on the window, with a letter tied to its foot. He glanced back at the rest of the kitchen’s occupants to verify that they too were seeing this. Drake was staring at his coffee suspiciously, and his father was indeed staring at the window with a look of suspicion and bewilderment. After a moment of tapping, Alfred walked over and opened the window. The bird immediately flew into the house, landed in front of Damian, and held out its leg expectantly. Before his father could stop him, he untied the letter. It had _Damian Wayne_ written on it in fancy cursive. He opened it and blinked. His father was standing behind him, so he didn’t have a chance to cover the contents before his father saw. _Damn_.

Inside was a picture of Harriet dressed in the Robin hoodie and cheap sunglasses, posed with an idiotic grin, making gang signs at the camera, posed in front of the original Batman costume display case. There were snowflakes printed around the edge, and Happy Holidays! Was printed across the bottom in an eye searing shade of red and green. It looked like the sort of card that families printed photos on at Walgreens and had delivered to everyone they knew. _Oh no._ Upon touching the card, he heard Harriet’s voice in his head.

“Happy Christmas, Haunica, and Yule! If you ever need a quick escape, turn the ring around on your finger twice and say ‘Harriet is the greatest’ It’ll take you and anyone else the ring is touching somewhere safe!” Damian blinked and narrowed his eyes. A simple silver ring fell out of the envelope. Harriet had told him a thing or two about magic during her years of training. One of the things he learned is that she should not have been able to make it where only he heard that message unless she had a hair, blood, or other tissue sample with his DNA on it. He ignored both his father’s and Drake’s protests and slipped the ring on his index finger. It was a perfect fit.

. . .

January, 2012, Hogwarts

Despite the numerous pertrifications, none of the victims had seen what attacked them. Now that the antidote had been kindly donated by Harriet, school was continuing and hero worship from the student body had increased exponentially. Nearly all was going well. Except for the Lockhart situation. He had backed off since she threatened to file for a very public restraining order, but if he tried to cozy up to her even _one more time_ , he would not survive the summer. A very unfortunate accident would definitely befall him. 

. . . 

February, 2012, Hogwarts

Harriet stared down the three older Ravenclaws in front of her, hands on her hips, and rage on her lips. Behind her stood possibly the tiniest first year in existence, getting comforted by Hermione, who was far better at genuine concern than Harriet was.

“I’ll only ask once. Give. Them. Back.” Harriet spoke cooly. 

“What are you gonna do about it?” The bravest of the three demanded.

“Well for starters, I’ll tell everyone who will listen that you three are bullying her, then if drastic action is not taken immediately, I’ll demand the school board of regents take a public stance against bullying in Hogwarts, and get the three of you expelled. I’m Harry freakin Potter, and I will not let you get away with tormenting this poor girl.” Harriet spoke confidently, and she could practically feel the hero worship radiating off Hermione. The three girls predictably faltered, and caved under her hard stare. They returned the odd radish earrings to the girl who was now on the verge of tears.

“If I ever catch you bullying any other students _ever again_ , I will make good on my threats. I do not like having to repeat myself.” Harriet stated coldly and watched the girls beat a hasty retreat. She turned back to the girl . . . Lori? Shoot what was her name again. . . 

“My name is Luna, and it’s very nice to finally meet you Harriet.” The girl-Luna said with a watery smile. _Well_. It appears that I’ve gained a rather interesting minion, Harriet thought to herself with a broad smile. 

. . . 

March 2012, Hogwarts

Harriet stared at the cooling corpse of the Basilisk. It was a shame to kill the beast, but _no one_ messes with her minions and comes out alive. Hermione should be awakened within the hour, so she will be okay, but Harriet was going to have a long talk with that girl about running off on her own to find known murderers. She glanced back to where Luna was hovering over the Gryffindor firstie. Harriet had knocked her unconscious when Luna asked to spare her earlier, but it was time for an explanation. Harriet was not in the habit of sparing enemies who attempt to kill what’s hers, but she would hear Luna out at the very least. Luna was the one to lead her to moaning Myrtle in the first place, and Harriet liked to reward her minions when they did something particularly useful. Reinforcing positive behavior and all that jazz. 

. . .

April 2012, Hogwarts

Draco Malfoy yelped as he was yanked into a side hallway and pressed into an alcove. The surprised yelp notwithstanding, he did not dare to make a sound or fight back. Harry freaking Potter, loomed over him.

“Malfoy. We need to talk.” She stated, her stare cool as ice. Malfoy felt fear paralyse him, how the rest of the school thought that this girl was some kind savior of the wizarding world was beyond him. The she-demon had him completely under her thumb and was not afraid to exercise her power over him on a whim. Still, he was a Malfoy. Draco gave her his best condescending scowl. 

“What do you want Potter? My report is not due for another two days.” Draco demanded with a scowl. Harry gave him a particularly sadistic smile.

“Why I’m so glad you asked. I would like you to sell me your houself.” 

. . . 

May 2012, Hogwarts

Hermione was already waiting for her in the library when the time came to start their study session. Ever since she had missed those three whole days of school more than a month ago, Hermione had behaved as though she was behind on everything and had to make up for it with a marathon of finals prep work and studying. Their study group had grown to include Longbottom, Luna, Creevy, female Weasly, Abbot, Bones, and a smattering of other second years whose names she remembered, but weren’t important enough to list. With Hermione leading them, Harriet was willing to bet that their group’s grades were the highest in their respective years. Creevy, Luna, and female Weasly were particularly lucky because Hermione had lent them her study guides from last year. She really needed to recruit more Slytherins to her following, she had invited Malfoy to attend, but he still avoided her whenever possible. Harriet wanted a full set of minions, preferably at least one from each year and house. She had all her Puff minions covered, but the other houses would take far more work. 

“Have you all decided which electives you will be taking?” Hermione asked the second years in the group when they all arrived. Harriet tried to listen attentively to Hermione as she began detailing all of their options. Hermione was a veritable fountain of knowledge when it came to Western-European Magics. Harriet honestly had no idea where she was getting it all. A muggle-born with no support should not be able to gather the sheer wealth of information that Hermione managed. Hermione was her own special brand of magic and Harriet was incredibly relieved that she had snatched her up as a loyal minion while she was still young and mouldable.

Unfortunately, the elective choices were so sub-par that she was reminded that she need to begin self study in the complexities of the literal schmorgesborg of magic that Ra’s had exposed her to. She already had Dobby visiting several elusive and moderately illegal markets around the world, gathering study material for the summer. Houselfs were the best, and Harriet couldn’t remember any reason why she hadn’t gotten one earlier. 

. . . 

June 2012, Hogwarts

Dumboredore watched the students depart toward the train with a wizened smile. Young Harry appears to doing much better this year. She has surrounded herself with lovely friends from Hufflepuff, Gryffyndor, and Ravenclaw. It was great to see house barriers be broken down like this. His only regret was that he was not able to test young Harry’s growth this year. Sure, she was at the top of her class, followed closely in grades by Miss Granger, but he was unable to test her resolve. The Basilisk had stopped attacking the student body before Harry was able to solve the mystery of the Chamber of Secrets. Even worse, the damned beast stopped attacking before Dumbledore was able to determine the location of the chamber. What a poor year this has been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dumbledore has no idea... Yay for an update! I hope Year 2 didn't seem too fast. What do you all think? Damian is about a year younger than Harriet so he's turning twelve soon, which means shit's going to start hitting the fan. Muahahaha
> 
> I'm working on a couple different things right now but my schedule cleared up because of corona virus so we'll see if I get more stuff out soon! Stay safe everyone and wash hands often!
> 
> Also: What are people more interested in for part three of this somewhat unrelated series, I have ideas for a crossover where Dick and male!Harry are long lost cousins, and one where Vernon Dursley is Janet Drake's brother and the pair despise each other's existence (also male!Harry)? I haven't really gotten anywhere with either one yet and am really bad at slash fics (child slash doesn't count because they don't actually do anything besides have emotions and be awkward), but love family fluff fics.


	6. Jealousy

July 3rd, 2012, Gotham

_Don’t puke dont puke dontpuke dontpukedontpuke_

Harriet had a steadying hand on Dobby’s shoulder as she desperately fought a battle for dominance with her own stomach. 

“Misses Harry Potter!” Dobby exclaimed in worry

“I’m fine!” Harriet wheezed.

“I- I just- I just was not expecting apparition to be so-” Harriet wheezed again and finally got herself under control. 

“So intense.” Harriet settled on and took another breath. She looked Dobby over, the house-elf looked much healthier and wore a full, perfectly sized butler outfit embroidered with the Potter family crest. Dobby was perhaps her best minion she had acquired so far, he was fanatically loyal, ridiculously underestimated, and ridiculously powerful. Three traits that Harriet decided she absolutely adored in her minions. Perhaps she should schedule a house-elf revolution in her planner. Hermione would like that.

“Thank you Dobby, you can have the next week off. I’ll call on you if there’s an emergency. Oh and here you go. This month’s pay.” Harriet said with a smile as she handed him a pouch containing five galleons. Dobby’s eyes watered up but he nodded stoically, accepted the pouch, and vanished with a crack. Dobby had long since figured out that she was not one for excessive chattering. He was honestly the best thing to have ever come out of the wizarding world and she could say with complete certainty that she would kill for him. 

Harriet looked around the alley she had landed in. This wasn’t in the area that she and Damian had patrolled last time she was here, but it was definitely Gotham. She was dressed in skinny jeans and a superman tee shirt, and immediately regretted her life choices. The sun was starting to set. Harriet had thought that she was going to land in the middle of the day and had planned for traveling Gotham in the daylight. She had all of her things in a wonder woman backpack, and with all the bright colors, she stood out like a sore thumb in what was clearly a bad area in Gotham at dusk. She was so glad that Dobby didn’t know anything about Gotham, or he would have never left her here. Grabbing her backpack, and fingering the cleverly disguised knives in her pockets, she made her way out of the alley. 

Harriet barely made it a single block before she was stopped by two seedy men more than twice her size. Gritting her teeth in annoyance as they tried to loom and coerce her into following them, Harriet decided that these two were going to die. She smiled and followed them into a nearby alley. Unfortunately, just before she could whip out her dagger and slit the first guy’s miserable neck, a gun went off with a loud _crack_ startlingly close. Harriet flinched back in surprise as the guy dropped, screaming in pain. A heartbeat later, Red Hood slammed himself into the second goon, unloading a rain of what were definitely rubber bullets into the man’s knees and groin. Harriet liked this guy’s style. 

“Are you alright miss?” Red Hood asked as he turned to get a better look at his rescuee. Harriet threw herself at him before he fully registered who was in front of him. 

“My hero!” Harriet shouted desperately in a perfect Gotham accent, as she wrapped her arms around him.

“Thank you so much! I was so scared! I thought I was gonna die for sure!” Harriet continued, but Red Hood stiffened upon contact and began to immediately pull the crying form off himself. Smart guy. As soon as she looked up at the Hood with a watery smile, he froze with the same poise as someone who suddenly found themselves within striking distance of a dangerous snake. 

“You!” The mechanical voice eliminated most of the tone, but nothing could eliminate the shock entirely. 

“Thank you Mr. Red Hood Sir.” Harriet let the British accent fade back into her voice and swooned for dramatic effect. Red Hood seemed to come to a near-instant decision and stepped back into her space. Not expecting this course of action, Harriet was nearly taken off guard when he hooked an arm around her waist and grappled directly up. Harriet _allowed_ herself to be taken along for the ride. She was not _that_ surprised. She wasn’t. Really. 

The moment their feet touch down, Harriet put herself out of easy arms reach. It only takes a moment of her hard stare being ignored for her to realize that the Hood is distracted. Distracted by talking to someone while the helmet mutes him. 

“Rude.” Harriet mutters, annoyed. That catches the Hood’s attention, he seems to glance at her, then look away again. After another long moment of feeling her annoyance rise exponentially, the Hood turns back and gives her his full attention. 

“The Batmobile’s five minutes out. Does Robin know you’re coming?” Hood asks almost curiously.

“I come and go as I please.” Harriet put as much haughtiness and indignation into the response as she could manage. That got her an electronic chuckle.

“Like a cat.” Harriet bristled at the insinuation.

“Anyway, what are you doing in crime alley? Aside from nearly killing a couple of gangsters?” Hood asked with a stillness that told her to think her answer carefully. Harriet shrugged.

“I planned to arrive earlier, and in a district that I patrolled with Damian and knew the layout better, but you know how it works, the best-laid plans and all that jazz.” Harriet dismissed the question lazily. Red Hood stared for another moment before coming to his own conclusion and nodding. Whatever he was about to say was cut off by the screeching tires of the batmobile coming to an abrupt stop at the base of the apartment complex they were standing on.

“And that’s my ride. Thanks Hoodie, we should team up again sometime, except next time you lure the bad guys in with your innocent face and feminine wiles and I shoot them!” Harriet gave him a bright grin and finger guns before jumping off the roof and parkouring down the building. Harriet heard the mechanical laugh echo off the roof and decided to call this a win. 

She came to a stop next to the batmobile which popped open to reveal Batman. Only Batman. Harriet hesitated.

“Umm.” 

“Get in.”

“My mom told me not to get in strange cars with strange men.”

“Harriet. Get in the car.”

“Umm . . . No. Where’s Robin?”

“Unavailable.”

“The Bloody Hell does that mean?” 

“Robin is unavailable, so I am going to take you back to the cave, where you can wait for him.” Batman was gritting his teeth, heh.

“Um, no. I don’t think so. I’ll wait for him here.” Harriet crossed her arms stubbornly.

“In crime alley?”

“Yup.”

“Alone at night?”

“Yup.”

“Someone would get killed.”

“Naaaw good ole’ Red Hood would save them.”

“Red Hood has his own business, he does not need to spend the night babysitting you.”

“Wow, Rude.”

“Get in the car Harriet.”

“Uuugh you’re no fun. Ya know that? Fiiiiiiiiiiiine.” Harriet dragged out the fine for as long as it took to get Batman grinding his teeth again. It didn’t take all that long.

. . .

It took less time than Harriet expected to come to a screeching halt in the Batcave. 

“Wow, that must be hell on treads. How often do you have to replace them? That must cost a fortune. Oh, wait, Batman is Bruce Wayne. You can probably afford it. Though at the rate you go through them, it’s more of a question of how long you can afford it.” Harriet had taken the task of filling Batman’s silence with a one-sided conversation where she slipped as many references to the fact that she knew his secret identity as she could into said conversation. Harriet was pretty sure that she set a personal best. 

As soon as she stepped out of the car, the door slammed shut and Batman was blasting out of the cave. 

“Wow. Rude. Some people just have no sense of propriety.” Harriet tsked and turned toward the batcomputer, where Drake and Mr. Pennyworth were sitting. 

“So where did Damian run off to?” Harriet found herself asking as she approached.

“Master Damian is currently preoccupied with a sleepover at a friend’s house.” Mr. Pennyworth spoke cooly. Harriet felt confusion wash over her.

“You mean like some sort of undercover mission?” Harriet asked, tilting her head.

“Nothing of the sort. One of his friends invited him to stay the night, and Master Damian accepted with Master Bruce’s permission.” Mr. Pennyworth explained patiently.

“But. Why?” Harriet was getting more confused.

“I’m afraid I do not understand what you are asking young Miss.” Alfred replied calmly.

“I mean. What’s the point? If not for a mission, then why did he go over?” Harriet didn’t feel that her question was unreasonable. Drake was giving her an odd look.

“I suppose you’ve never had a sleepover?” Drake asked.

“Sleepovers are for children.” Harriet replied hotly, feeling embarrassed for some strange reason. Drake gave her a judgemental elevator stare, visibly looking her up and down. 

“I’m not a child. I have never been one. And neither is Damian for the record.” Harriet hissed, annoyed. Something changed in both their looks. Fuck. Why did they both look as sad all of a sudden? 

“I’m afraid I must disagree with that statement Young Miss.” Alfred spoke calmly. Harriet bristled.

“Yeah? Well,” Harriet paused, feeling her face get warm, none of her normal options to protest this conversation were open to her right now. A loud whoosh saved her from the embarrassing line of conversation. Harriet let the sound take her attention, and found Damian dressed in his robin outfit being carried by. . . Mini Superman? 

“What?” Harriet blinked.

“Harriet!” Damian exclaimed with a small smile.

“It is good to see you are well. I was unaware that you would be visiting so soon.” Damian exclaimed with a small amount of happiness lining his voice.

“This is Jon, he is a worthy ally. A . . . friend of mine. Jon this is Harriet, the one I told you about.” Damian introduced as he closed the gap between them. Harriet frowned.

“He’s meta? Why did you tell him about me?” She asked slowly. She didn’t miss several people in room hesitate and frown.

“Yes, he is the son of Superman. A friend and an ally.” Damian stressed the word ally, starting to frown slightly.

“Why do you need him? He looks soft.” Harriet commented with slightly more venom than she intended. Damian’s frown deepened.

“He wasn’t raised the way we were, but that does not make him weak. Jon is a strong, good ally. He would not hold us back.” Damian replied, she gave Jon a quick look, and found him looking back and forth between them with a worried frown. His emotions dominated his face. Weak. Harriet crossed her arms.

“Fine. Go back to your _sleepover_. I had other things to do anyway.” Harriet grumbled and reached into her duffle bag. 

“Harriet.” Damian said using a tone that she hated. Harriet yanked a box out of her duffle and shoved it at him. The box was about two feet long and made from hand-carved wood. An intricate Celtic knot was burned into the top. Engraved metal covered each of the corners along with an intricate metal latch that sealed the box shut. 

“Here I was just going to drop this off.” Harriet grumbled. Damian gave her a long stare and opened the box. He let out a quiet noise and carefully set the box down on one of the desks near the batcomputer. Inside was a replica of his Robin chest piece, gloves, and boots. They retained the same colors and look, but were made of an entirely different material than anything he had seen before. Damian ran his fingers gently over the sturdy material, and glanced up at her in confusion. 

“This is great, but I already have a Robin suit.” Damian spoke slowly, a hint of confusion in his voice. Harriet tsked, still annoyed.

“May I borrow one of your Batarangs?” Harriet asked calmly, the knot in her chest unraveled slightly, when Damian passed one to her without question. Keenly aware of their audience, Harriet carefully took the chest piece out of the box and laid it over the desk. Then, she drove the Batarang into the material with all the considerable force she could muster, then dragged over the material in several moves that would puncture and wreck their reinforced kevlar. Next, she held up the Batarang, displaying its blunted edge and finally held up the undamaged chest piece. There was a moment of silence before Damian approached and began looking over the costume with new respect. 

“What is it made of?” Drake spoke up, shock in his voice.

“I’ve never seen anything like it.” He had stood at some point and was also examining the material. 

“What it’s made of isn’t important. The important thing is that this will make you less stab-able, but not completely unstab-able, so you should wear it but don’t rely on it. I only have a limited supply of the material so that’s all your getting until you’re done growing. Then I’ll have a larger costume made. If it gets too small, let me know. I have a specialist who’ll make adjustments for you.” Harriet spoke looking Damian in the eye. They shared a small smile. 

“This is incredible.” Jon spoke up excitedly, Harriet felt her smile die, which in turn caused Damian’s smile to die. 

“Well then, I should get going.” Harriet reached into her duffle and pulled out a smaller matching box and handed it to a frowning Damian.

“Here. Open it privately, it’s meant to be for you, not the peanut gallery. I have places to be.” Harriet spoke with a forced calm and started walking toward the elevator.

“I’ll show myself out.” Harriet, fully intended to leave and find an abandoned building to camp out in until Dobby’s vacation was done, but Damian grabbed her wrist. 

“No. Stay, it’s not too late for dinner. It would reflect poorly on the Wayne family if we let you leave without serving you dinner.” Harriet had half a mind to huff and walk out, and leave him and _Jon_ to their own devices, but he gave her a look, and she knew immediately that they would be spending the next week filling each other in on everything that she had missed in their time apart. Well, as long as Jon wasn’t there.

. . . 

June 2012, Wayne Manor

“So what are you going to do about Harriet and Jon?” Tim found himself asking the Demon Spawn as they ate breakfast. Harriet was apparently sleeping in, a bad habit she picked up during her mission that both Harriet and the little Demon refused to elaborate on. 

“I have no idea what you are referring to Drake.” Damian glared.

“Um did you even see the same thing the rest of us did? There's only three ways you could take the conversation last night. Either Harriet is biased against metas, ridiculously jealous of Jon, or both.” Tim spoke, simultaneously counting on his fingers, watching Damian get more offended with every word.

“Harriet is _not_.” He hissed.

“Which one? Biased? Or jealous?” Tim replied with a smirk.

“Both! Neither!” Damian hissed, nearly at a loss for words.

“Perhaps Master Timothy’s idea holds some merit, Master Damian.” Alfred piped up from where he was preparing a batch of pancakes. Damian looked so incredulous that Alfred was taking Tim’s side, that it warmed Tim’s black hole of a heart. 

“This is preposterous.”

“What is?” B walked in, looking half dead and grabbing a coffee with a nod of thanks at Alfred. 

“Harriet is either jealous of Jon, or biased against metas.” Tim spoke before Damian could, earning another furious glare from the brat. B’s eyes furrowed in thought.

“What makes you think that?” 

“Well, she was her perfectly chipper, murder happy self until she found out Damian was away at a sleepover. Then she started getting agitated when we explained Damian was spending time with friends for the sake of having fun. Right after that, Damian showed up with Jon and she nearly lost her shit. She was hostile and was rude about his status as meta. Then she melted under Damian’s puppy eyes which I didn’t know he even _had_ , then the moment Jon reminded her of his existence, Harriet became hostile again.” Tim recounted the nights' events, watching Damian’s face go through a myriad of emotions as he processed what Tim was saying. 

“Harriet has nothing against metas and is not jealous.” Damian insisted.

“Are you sure about that? You sounded much more confident about the first point.” Tim replied without missing a beat. Damian made a frustrated noise. 

“What on earth would she be jealous about? Our relationship goes back much further and deeper than the friendship that I hold with Jon. Harriet knows that she is my closest ally.” Damian looked so confused at the thought, that Tim almost felt bad for him. Damian really isn’t good at this friend stuff. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it turns out that online classes are the hardest thing I've ever attempted... I probably won't update again until my classes are done... Imma keep on keepin on. Be safe and wash hands! 
> 
> <3 <3 <3

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooooo. . . I have other works that I should be working on right now but I am stuck and this happened instead. O-O


End file.
